TRAGEDY 


NAN 


JOHN 
MASE  FIELD 


There  isn't  much  of  cither  throb  or 

pulse   in    the   Goodman    Theater's    re- 

ef "The  Tragedy  of  Nan  ":  none 

indeed,  save  as  the  qualities  called  for 

by  Masefield's  IOOBC,  lovely,   torn: 

and  effective  essay  in  playmaking  are 

provided  by  Mrs.  J.  Elliott  Jenkins  In 

the  part  of  Nan.    Her  playing  is  good: 

she  knows  the  role,  what  it  is  about 

and  where  it  runs  high  and  runs  low, 

and    I    fancy    that    her   impersonation 

would  be  uncommonly  effective  if  she 

were  part  of  an  ensemble  whose  other 

members  provided  somthing  for  her  to 

act  with,  to,  for,  and  against.     Mase- 

fleld  put  one  of  the  finest  love-scenes 

in  all  English  drama  into  the  second 

act  of  this  play;  but  I  have  aa  yet  en- 

countered no  player,  man  or  woman, 

so  gifted  that  he  or  she  could  play  il 

alone.     That's  the  way  with  tc&nes-a- 

dtnx:  they  are  designed  for  two  per- 


sons! 


r 

It  may  be  that  something  of  feeling, 
passion,  color,  and  a  sense  of  character 
and  situation  will  come  to  the  others 
of  the  cast  with  repetition.  What  they 
submitted  last  night  was  rather  dis 
ordered  and  aimless:  there  was  f 
and  there  wasn't  movement, 
they  didn't  catch  the  especial  dialect 
of  Gloucestershire  and  the  Severn 
country,  with  its  harsh  reflection  of 
the  Welsh  way  with  rustic  English 
idiom,  was  not  surprising,  nor  yet  a 
reason  for  excess  woe:  the  play,  after 
all,  owes  none  of  its  drama  to  the  dia- 
ect,  which  represents  a  literary  stunt 
of  Masefleld's  rather  than  a  high 
achievement  in  playwriting. 

The  Tragedy  of  Nan."  in  the  pres- 
ent  plans   of   the   Goodman,   is   to   be 
continued   In  the  half-week  routine  of 
the  "  professional  "  wing  until  April  10 
and  is  to  be  followed,  the  15tb.  by  the 
deferred    revival    of    Moliere's    "Don 
Juan  '*  with  which  will  be  acted  Shaw's 
little    piece    about     Napoleon     named 
••The   Man   of   Destiny."      Later,   il 
planned,     "A      Mid-Summer      Night* 
Dream  "  will  be  put  on;  and  it  is  f 
this    I  guess.  Whitford  Kane  has  been 
engaged:  he  might  be  happy  as  Bottom 


By 

JOHN  MASEFIELD 


ROSAS 

GALLIPOLI 

RIGHT   ROYAL 

THE  FAITHFUL 

SELECTED  POEMS 

LOST  ENDEAVOUR 

A   MAINSAIL  HAUL 

REYNARD  THE  Fox 

CAPTAIN  MARGARET 

THE  DAFFODIL  FIELDS 

THE  OLD  FRONT  LINE 

MULTITUDE  AND  SOLITUDE 

THE  STORY  OF  A  ROUND-HOUSE 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 
GOOD  FRIDAY  AND  OTHER  POEMS 
SALT  WATER  POEMS  AND  BALLADS 
THE  EVERLASTING  MERCY  AND  THE 

WIDOW  IN  THE  BYE  STREET 
PHILIP  THE  KING,  AND  OTHER  POEMS 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  POMPEY  THE  GREAT 
LOLLINGDON  DOWNS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 
THE  LOCKED  CHEST  AND  THE  SWEEPS  OF 

NINETY-EIGHT 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  AND  OTHER  PLAYS 


"The  tide.    The  tide  coming  up  the  river." 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 


By 

JOHN  MASEFIELD 


NEW  IliUBTRATED 
EDITION 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1921 

reterted 


PRINTED   IN   THE  UNITED   STATES   OP  AMERICA 


COFTBIQHT,   1909, 

BY  JOHN  MASEFIELD. 


New  illustrated  edition  published  September,  1921. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  ft  Ivea  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


Coll«g« 
LArary 


-PR 


M 


To 
W.  B.  YEATS 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

Tragedy  at  its  best  is  a  vision  of  the  heart  of  life. 
The  heart  of  life  can  only  be  laid  bare  in  the  agony 
and  exultation  of  dreadful  acts.  The  vision  of 
agony,  or  spiritual  contest,  pushed  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  dying  personality,  is  exalting  and  cleansing. 
It  is  only  by  such  vision  that  a  multitude  can  be 
brought  to  the  passionate  knowledge  of  things  ex- 
ulting and  eternal. 

Commonplace  people  dislike  tragedy,  because 
they  dare  not  suffer  and  cannot  exult.  The  truth 
and  rapture  of  man  are  holy  things,  not  lightly  to  be 
scorned.  A  carelessness  of  life  and  beauty  marks 
the  glutton,  the  idler,  and  the  fool  in  their  deathy 
path  across  history. 

The  poetic  impulse  of  the  Renaissance  is  now 
spent.  The  poetic  drama,  the  fruit  of  that  impulse, 
is  now  dead.  Until  a  new  poetic  impulse  gathers, 
playwrights  trying  for  beauty  must  try  to  create 
new  forms  in  which  beauty  and  the  high  things  of 
the  soul  may  pass  from  the  stage  to  the  mind.  Our 
playwrights  have  all  the  powers  except  that  power 
of  exultation  which  comes  from  a  delighted  brood- 
ing on  excessive,  terrible  things.  That  power  is 
seldom  granted  to  man;  twice  or  thrice  to  a  race 
perhaps,  not  oftener.  But  it  seems  to  me  certain 
vii 


Vlii  AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

that  every  effort,  however  humble,  towards  the 
achieving  of  that  power  helps  the  genius  of  a  race 
to  obtain  it,  though  the  obtaining  may  be  fifty  years 
after  the  strivers  are  dead. 

This  country  tragedy  was  written  at  Greenwich 
in  February,  March,  and  September  1907.  Part  of 
it  is  based  upon  something  which  happened  (as  I 
am  told)  in  Kent  about  a  century  ago.  As  I  am 
ignorant  of  Kentish  country  people  I  placed  the 
action  among  a  people  and  in  a  place  well  known 
tome. 

JOHN  MASEFIELD. 

4th  April  1911. 


I  began  to  write  this  play  either  at  the  end  of 
1906  or  the  beginning  of  1907.  I  began  it  upon  a 
fable  that  had  been  given  to  me  in  conversation,  as 
something  that  had  occurred  in  Kent  about  a  cen- 
tury ago.  A  barrister  in  looking  through  some 
papers  had  found  mention  of  a  case  in  which  a  man 
had  been  hanged  for  sheep-stealing.  After  his  exe- 
cution, proof  came  to  hand  that  he  was  innocent. 
Someone,  or  some  institution  or  department,  thought 
to  remedy  the  matter  by  giving  money  to  the  man's 
daughter,  "but  it  was  then  too  late  of  course."  That 
was  the  story  as  it  was  first  told  to  me. 

Thinking  it  over,  I  decided  to  write  a  play  upon 
this  fable,  partly  because  I  was  then  feeling  acutely 
the  horror  of  miscarriage  of  justice,  and  partly  be- 
cause I  saw  in  the  fable  an  opportunity  of  writing 
of  every  side  of  a  woman's  character.  As  the  fable 
in  itself  seemed  not  enough,  I  invented  the  further 
matters  of  an  unhappy  love  and  harsh  surroundings. 
I  laid  the  scene  of  the  play  at  an  imaginary  farm- 
house in  the  hamlet  of  Broad  Oak,  on  the  brink  of 
the  Severn,  near  Newnham-on-Severn  in  Gloucester- 
shire. 

The  mention  of  the  Tide  in  the  last  Act  may  need 
a  few  words  of  explanation.  The  Severn  is  a  tidal 

iz 


X  PREFATORY  NOTE 

river,  in  which  a  Bore  or  Eager  forms  at  high  water, 
owing  to  the  channel  being  too  narrow  for  the 
volume  of  water  rushing  in.  The  tide,  being  con- 
stricted or  pent  in,  is  heaped  up,  so  that  it  advances 
much  as  I  describe  it,  in  a  wall  of  water  across  the 
river,  two  or  three  feet  higher  than  the  level  of  the 
stream  up  which  it  comes.  As  it  advances,  it  roars 
like  an  express  train.  The  certainty  and  fatality  of 
its  march  make  it  a  very  noble  and  very  terrible 
sight. 

I  have  to  thank  Messrs.  Tilley  &  Son,  of  Led- 
bury,  in  Herefordshire,  for  taking  the  photographs 
with  which  this  volume  is  illustrated,  in  the  cold 
and  wet  of  an  early  wild  March  morning. 

JOHN  MASEFIELD. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTKATIONS 

"The  Tide,  the  Tide,  coming  up  the  river" 

Frontispiece 

FACUJO  PAGE 

A  Scene  on  the  Farm  at  Broad  Oak    ...  10 

On  the  Way  to  the  Hamlet 22 

At  Broad  Oak 32 

On  the  Green 44 

The  Lanes,  Broad  Oak 56 

At  Broad  Oak  64 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 

PERSONS  PLAYED  BY 

JENNY  PARGETTER  ....  Miss  Mary  Jerrold 
MRS.  PARGETTER  ....  Mrs.  A.  B.  Tapping 
WILLIAM  PARGETTER  .  .  .  Mr.  Horace  Hodges 
NAN  HARDWICK  .  .  .  Miss  Lilian  McCarthy 

DICK  GURVIL Mr.  A.  E.  Anson 

ARTIE  PEARCE Mr.  Percy  Gawthorn 

GAFFER  PEARCE Mr.  H.  R.  Hignett 

TOMMY  ARKER Mr.  Allan  Wade 

ELLEN Miss  Marion  Nugent 

SUSAN Miss  Bokenham 

THE  REV.  MR.  DREW  .  .  Mr.  Edmund  Gurney 
CAPTAIN  DIXON  ....  Mr.  H.  Athol  Forde 
THE  CONSTABLE  ....  Mr.  Christmas  Grose 

This  play  was  produced  by  the  Pioneers  at  the 
New  Royalty  Theatre,  on  24th  May,  1908,  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  H.  Granville  Barker.  At  its 
revival  as  a  matinee  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  in 
June,  1908,  the  part  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Drew  was 
played  by  Mr.  Cecil  Brooking. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 

ACT  I 

SCENE: — A  kitchen  in  the  house  of  a  small 
tenant  farmer  at  Broad  Oak,  on  Severn.  1810. 

[Mss.  PARGETTER  and  JENNY  rolling  dough 
and  cutting  apples.] 

[JENNY  takes  flour  from  cupboard.] 

JENNY.  It  do  seem  quiet  'ere,  Mother,  after 
service. 

MRS.  P.     P'raps  now  I'll  'ave  some  quiet. 

JENNY.  Only  think,  Mother,  the  ladies  'ad 
cups  of  tea  in  bed  of  a  morning. 

MRS.  P.  P'raps  now  you're  come  'ome,  I'll 
'ave  my  cup  of  tea,  it's  time  I'd  a  little  some- 
thing after  all  I  gone  through. 


2  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

JENNY.    Why,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  What  with  that  girl — Mooning 
round  with  'er  great  eyes. 

JENNY.    Do  'ee  mean  Cousin  Nan,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  Mind  your  work.  I  wish  them 
groceries'd  come. 

JENNY.  Us'll  'ardly  'ave  the  things  ready, 
Mother.  Company  be  coming  at  dark. 

MRS.  P.  Things'U  'ave  to  be  ready.  'Old 
your  tongue. 

JENNY.  'Oo  be  coming,  Mother,  besides  Dick 
Gurvil? 

MRS.  P.  Young  Artie  Pearce,  wold  Gaffer 
Pearce,  them  girls  o'  Robertses,  and  Tommy 
Arker. 

JENNY.  Us  shall  be  quite  a  pearty,  shan't 
us? 

MRS.  P.  It  won't  be  much  of  a  pearty  to  me, 
with  that  Nan  hi  the  room.  She  tokens  'er  dad 
too  much. 


Act  7]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  3 

JENNY.    Why,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  Always  so  prim  and  well  be'aved, 
thinking  'erself  so  much  better  than  anyone. 

JENNY.    Ah ! 

MRS.  P.  Always  'elping  'er  friends  as  she 
calls  them. 

JENNY.     'Elpin'  them,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  Barthin'  their  brats  for  'em.  'Oo 
knows  what  dirt  they've  been  playing  in?  Or 
mending  their  linen.  Flying  in  the  face  of  Prov- 
idence. She  might  bring  us  all  the  fever.  [Going 
over  to  get  a  chair.]  'Ow  many  more  times  am  I 
to  tell  yer  I  won't  'ave  your  things  left  about? 
Look  'ere  at  this  chair. 

JENNY.    What  be  it,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  Look  'ere  at  your  coat.  'Go's  to 
get  you  a  new  coat  when  this  is  wore  out?  I 
will  'ave  you  careful.  Every  day  of  my  life  I'm 
putting  your  clothes  away.  Idle  lawkamercy 
girl — 


4  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

JENNY.  That  ben't  mine,  Mother.  That  be 
Cousin  Nan's. 

MRS.  P.  It's  a  wonder  you  couldn't  say  so 
at  once.  Oh !  so  it's  'ers,  is  it?  Wot's  she  got  in 
'er  pockets,  I  wonder.  [Looks  in  pockets.] 
Wot's  'ere?  Oh!  ribbons  for  our  white  neck,  in- 
deed. Wot's 'ere?  Ho,  indeed.  [Taking  paper.] 

JENNY.    Wot's  that,  Mother,  a  letter? 

MRS.  P.  So  this  is  wot's  up,  is  it?  [She 
glances  at  paper.] 

JENNY.  [Peeping.]  It  looks  like  Dick  Gur- 
vil's  'and,  Mother — 

MRS.  P.  You  'eed  your  duty.  [Puts  paper 
in  her  own  pocket.]  I'll  give  it  'er.  'Ere,  out 
of  my  way.  None  of  your  rags  in  my  way. 
[Flinging  coat  into  a  corner.] 

JENNY.  Oh,  Mother,  it's  gone  into  the  pig- 
wash. 

MRS.  P.    Wot  if  it  'as? 


Act  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  5 

JENNY.  She  won't  be  able  to  wear  it  again, 
Mother.  Never. 

MRS.  P.  Let  'er  go  cold.  Learn  fer  not  to 
leave  'er  things  about.  Where  are  you  going 
now? 

JENNY.  I  was  just  going  to  hang  it  out, 
Mother. 

MRS.  P.  Don't  you  dare  to  touch  it.  Stand 
'ere  and  do  your  work.  Let  that  dirty  gallus- 
bird  do  'er  own  chores. 

JENNY.    Whatever  do  'ee  mean,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.    A  gallus-bird ;  that's  all  she  is. 

JENNY.  Cousin  Nan,  Mother.  Why  do  'ee 
call  'er  that? 

MRS.  P.  Oh,  p'raps  your  father  'aven't 
a-told  you. 

JENNY.    No,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.  Run  and  see  if  that  be  Dick  with 
the  groceries. 


6  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

JENNY.     [Goes  to  window.}    No,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.  Drat  'im.  Well,  this  mustn't  go  be- 
yond yer — it  ain't  to  be  known  about.  'Er 
father — your  Cousin  Nan's  father — wot  married 
your  father's  sister — 

JENNY.    Yes,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.  Don't  interrup'  when  your  moth- 
er's talking  to  yer.  'Er  father,  as  she's  so  stuck 
on —  'E  was  'ung. 

JENNY.    'Ung,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.    At  Glorster  ja-il. 

JENNY.    Whatever  'ad  'e  gone  for  to  do? 

MRS.  P.    'E  stole  a  sheep.    That's  wot  'e  did. 

JENNY.     And  so  Je  were  'ung. 

MRS.  P.  There's  a  thing  to  'appen  in  a 
family. 

JENNY.    So  be  that  why  Nan  come  'ere? 

MRS.  P.    Thanks  to  your  father. 

JENNY.  I  didn't  think,  when  I  left  service, 
I  should  'sociate  with  no  gallus-birds. 


Act  n  THE  TRAGEDY  OP  NAN  7 

MRS.  P.  Nor  you  wouldn't  if  your  father 
was  in  'is  right  mind.  The  Lord  'ath  laid  a 
'eavy  judgmink  on  your  father.  Wot  'e  wants 
with  'er  I  can't  think. 

JENNY.     Her  may  remind  he  of  Auntie. 

MRS.  P.  'E's  no  call  to  be  reminded  of  any 
woman,  'cept  'er  the  Lord  'ath  bound  to  'im. 
Wot  I  gorn  through  with  that  Nan  hi  the 
'ouse'd  a  kill  a  Zebedee.  They  do  say  they  be 
'ard  to  kiU. 

JENNY.    'Ere  be  father  coming. 

MRS.  P.  'E  'as  'is  lunch  of  a  mornin'  now. 
Take  'is  cider  off  the  'ob. 

JENNY.  Where's  'is  bread  and  cheese?  [She 
takes  mug  off  hob,  looks  about  carelessly,  and 
drops  and  smashes  mug  on  hearth.] 

MRS.  P.    There  now. 

JENNY.     Oh,  Mother,  I've  broke  it. 

MRS.  P.    What  a  clumsy  'and  you  'ave. 


8  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

JENNY.  It's  father's  fav'rit  mug.  0  Mother, 
whatever  will  'e  say? 

MRS.  P.  'Ere.  Get  upstairs.  Get  into  the 
next  room. 

JENNY.  Whatever  will  'e  say!  'E  will  be 
mad.  [Cries.] 

MRS.  P.  I'll  talk  'im  round.  There!  It's 
all  a  accident.  Quick!  before  'e  comes  now. 

JENNY.  'E  will  be  that  mad!  A  dear,  a 
dear!  [Goes  out.] 

MRS.  P.  [Taking  out  letter.]  So  this  is  wot 
it's  come  to:  [Declaiming.]  Dick  Gurvil  to 
'is  fond  beloved : 

"As  I  was  a-walking  a  lady  I  did  meet 

I  knew  it  for  my  true  love  by  the  roses  on  'er 

cheek 

The  roses  on  'er  cheek  so  sweetly  did  grow 
My  'eart  out  of  my  bosom,  like  a  engine  did  go." 

I'll  watch  yer,  Master  Dick. 


Act  1}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  9 

[Enter  MR.  PARGETTER,  walking  with  a 
stick.  He  is  an  old,  shortish  thick-set  man,  still 
hale.] 

MR.  P.  [Advancing  towards  MRS.  P.  and 
gravely  saluting.]  Well,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.    Did  you  see  the  fiddler? 

MR.  P.     I  saw  the  fiddler. 

MRS.  P.    Is  'e  coming  to-night? 

MR.  P.  'E  is  coming.  Us  be  going  to  'ave 
great  wonders  to-night.  'Ot  mutton  parsty 
pies. 

MRS.  P.  You  won't  eat  of  no  'ot  mutton 
parsty  pies.  You  know  'ow  that  sheep  died  as 
well  as  I  do.  'E  was  oovy.  [Pause.]  A  apple 
parsty's  no  great  wonders. 

MR.  P.  A  fiddler  and  a  apple  parsty's 
wonders. 

MRS.  P.  It'll  fare  to  be  a  girt  wonder  if  th' 
apple  parsty  be  set.  The  amount  of  'elp  I  get 
in  the  'ouse-work — 


10  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

MR.  P.    At  it  again. 

MRS.  P.    Yes,  I  am  at  it  again,  as  you  call  it. 

MR.  P.    What  is  it,  now? 

MRS.  P.  'Ow  much  longer  'ave  I  got  to  put 
up  with  that  Nan  in  the  'ouse? 

MR.  P.  My  niece  Nan '11  stay  in  this  'ouse 
till — till  I  go  to  churchyard.  Or — till  she  mar- 
ries. [A  pause.]  Now  you  know  my  mind. 
The  girl's  a  good  girl,  if  you'd  let  up  in  your 
naggin'  'er  'ed  off. 

MRS.  P.    Naggin',  Will? 

MR.  P.  'Ow's  any  girl  to  be  good  with  you 
naggin'  'er  'ed  off  all  day  long? 

MRS.  P.    When  did  I  ever  nag,  as  you  call  it? 

MR.  P.  When?  'Ave  you  ever  give  'er  a 
kind  word  since  she  come  'ere? 

MRS.  P.  I  'ave  my  'eavenly  warrant  for  all 
I  done,  Will.  Them  as  the  Lord  afflicts  we 
must  come  out  from  and  be  ye  separate. 


. 


A  Scene  on  the  Farm  at  Broad  Oak 


Act  /]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  11 

MB.  P.  I  wonder  the  Lord  can  let  you  pros- 
per, talking  like  that. 

MRS.  P.  'E  knows  'is  own,  Will.  You  mark 
my  words. 

MR.  P.  I  will  mark  'em.  And  you  mark 
mine.  You'll  treat  my  niece  Nan  as  you'd  treat 
your  daughter  Jenny. 

MRS.  P.  Our  daughter  Jenny  is  the  child  of 
respectable  parents.  That — that  charity  girl 
is  the  daughter  of — 

MR.  P.  My  sister.  That's  'oo  she's  the 
daughter  of. 

MRS.  P.  And  a  thief  'oo  was  'ung.  I've  al- 
ways been  respectable;  and  I've  always  kep'  my 
girl  respectable.  I  will  not  'ave  to  do  with  the 
common  and  the  unclean. 

MR.  P.  You'll  'ave  Nan  'ere,  and  you'll  stop 
your  nagging,  jealous  tongue. 

MRS.  P.    Jealous? 


12  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

MR.  P.  Yes,  jealous.  You  make  'er  life  a 
burden  acos  she  tokens  my  sister.  You  was 
sweet  on  'er  dad  yourself.  That's  why  you 
make  'er  life  a  burden. 

MRS.  P.  Ho,  indeed!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Wot 
notions. 

MR.  P.  That's  the  truth  though.  I  know 
yer.  I  seen  somethink  of  yer  in  these  twenty 
years. 

MRS.  P.  'Ark  you  to  me,  Will  Pargetter. 
Could  you  look  on  and  see  your  daughter 
wronged? 

MR.  P.    What's  that  got  to  do  with  it? 

MRS.  P.  I'll  tell  you.  When  first  we  'ad 
that  charity  girl  'ere — 

MR.  P.  You  call  'er  Nan.  Wot  are  you 
wavin'  that  bit  of  paper  at  me  for? 

MRS.  P.  We  'ad  'opes  as  our  Jenny'd  marry 
Dick  Gurvil  soon  as  she  come  back  from 
service. 


Act  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OP  NAN  13 

MR.  P.  That  depended  on  Dick,  not  on 
Jenny. 

MRS.  P.  Oh,  but  Dick  was  no  difficulty. 
They  kep'  company  before  Jenny  went  to  serv- 
ice. Dick  was  sweet  on  'er  all  right. 

MR.  P.    Dick  was  sweet  on  twenty  girls. 

MRS.  P.  No.  Since  that — that  idle  mooner 
come  'ere — Dick's  been  sweet  on  'er.  Look  'ere. 
Look  at  this.  [Shews  letter.] 

MR.  P.  I  don't  want  no  letter.  Put  it  where 
yer  got  it.  That's  the  best  thing  I  ever  'eard 
of  Dick.  Dick  wants  a  wife  with  sense. 

MRS.  P.  You'll  let  'er  marry  'im,  after  'is 
carrying  on  along  o'  Jenny.  And  break  your 
own  daughter's  'art. 

MR.  P.    Jenny's  got  no  'art. 

MRS.  P.  Jenny'd  resolve  'er  'eavenly  crown 
for  Dick  Gurvil.  'Ow  dare  you  blacken  your 
own  child? 

MR.  P.    Blacken  'er.    She  's  a  cold  'eartless 


14  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

little  baggage,  Jenny  is.  Our  Nan's  worth  a 
'undred  of  'er. 

MRS.  P.  And  you  expect  me  to  see  that 
great-eyed,  ugly  scrawf  marrying  my  daugh- 
ter's man. 

MR.  P.  He's  not  your  daughter's  man. 
Dick's  everybody's  daughter's  man.  If  'e  steps 
up  and  marries  our  Nan — it'll  be  the  making  of 
'im.  Give  me  my  lunch. 

MRS.  P.  Ah !  I  was  forgetting.  You  put  me 
out  of  patience.  I'm  afraid  I  spoke  'asty,  Will. 
I've  a  'asty  tongue.  [With  suavity.] 

MR.  P.    There,  there!    Where's  my  vittles? 

[She  puts  down  bread  and  cheese.] 

[PARGETTER  gets  up  to  fetch  mug  from  the 
hob.] 

MR.  P.  Thank  ye,  Mother.  [He  sees  the 
mug  broken.]  Law,  Mother.  You  'aven't  a 
broke  my  Toby. 


Act  n  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  15 

MRS.  P.  There,  there  now,  Will,  it  was  a 
accidenk. 

MR.  P.    Not  my  Toby,  broken? 

MRS.  P.  It  was  a  accidenk.  [She  picks  up 
the  pieces.] 

MR.  P.  'Ooever  'ave  a  broke  my  Toby.  Why 
weren't  I  told  to  onst? 

MRS.  P.    She  were  goin'  to  tell  yer,  she  said. 

MR.  P.  Not — not  Nan?  It  wasn't  Nan 
broke  it? 

MRS.  P.  'Er  said  'er'd  tell  you  to  onst.  It 
was  a  accidenk. 

MR.  P.  But  no  accidenk  could  a  broke  my 
Toby. 

MRS.  P.  There,  there.  Us'll  buy  another's 
good  as  'er. 

MR.  P.  But  I've  a  'ad  my  zider  outen  ov  'er 
this  fifty  year,  like  my  granfer  'ave  a-done.  I'd 
a  value  for  that  Toby. 


16  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

MRS.  P.  'Er'll  tell  'ee  'ow  it  was.  It  was  a 
accidenk.  She  was  in  a  'urry,  you  see.  Getting 
things  ready  for  the  pearty.  It  was  quite  a 
accidenk. 

MR.  P.    'Ow  could  it  be  quite  a  accidenk? 

MRS.  P.  'Er  'ands  were  wet,  you  see;  she's 
particular  about  'er  'ands — 

MR.  P.    Clumsy  'anded — 

MRS.  P.  They  was  all  soapy  from  washing. 
It  was  quite  a  accidenk. 

MR.  P.    And  so  she  let  it  slip. 

MRS.  P.  She  didn't  see  where  she  was  go- 
ing. The  sun  was  in  'er  eyes  or  somethink. 
She's  goin'  to  tell  yer  'ow  it  was. 

MR.  P.  My  wold  Toby  jug  as  Granfer  'ad. 
'Er  could  a  broak  my  'eart  sooner.  'Er  could. 
'Er  could.  [He  pushes  away  his  bread  and 
cheese.]  I  can't  eat  my  vittles  after  that.  That 
I  can't.  Careless  girt  gowk ! 


Act  n  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  17 

[Enter  NAN — Old  PARGETTER  stares  at  her 
hard  all  through  this  scene.] 

NAN.    You  be  back  early,  Uncle. 

MRS.  P.    Well? 

NAN.    Yes,  Aunt. 

MRS.  P.  "Yes,  Aunt."  'Ave  you  looked  at 
yourself  long  enough  in  the  glass? 

NAN.    What  glass? 

MRS.  P.    The  glass  upstairs. 

NAN.  The  beds  are  made.  I  suppose  that's 
what  you  mean. 

MRS.  P.  That's  not  the  way  to  talk  before 
your  uncle. 

NAN.  May  I  help  you  cut  them  apples, 
Aunt? 

MRS.  P.  No,  you  mayn't  'elp  me  cut  these 
apples.  You  get  your  own  work. 

NAN.    I've  done  all  my  work,  Aunt. 

MRS.  P.  None  of  your  impudence.  [Very 
sharply.] 


18  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

NAN.    I  have. 

MRS.  P.  If  you  'ave,  it's  not  done  properly  I 
know.  I've  a  good  mind  to  make  you  do  it  over. 
A  very  good  mind. 

NAN.    Is  that  the  dough  for  the  pasty? 

MRS.  P.    None  o'  yer  business. 

[NAN  picks  up  a  rolling  pin.] 

Put  down  that  pin  when  you're  told. 

NAN.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  'elp,  Aunt?  Com- 
p'ny  be  coming  at  dark. 

MRS.  P.  What's  it  to  do  with  you?  I  know 
w'en  comp'ny's  coming  without  your  dinnin'  it 
into  me. 

[NAN  goes  softly  to  the  dresser.] 

Wot  are  you  creepin'  about  on  tiptoe  for? 
One'd  think  you  were  a  thief,  like  your  father. 

NAN.  [Meekly.]  I  didn't  want  to  disturve 
you,  Aunt. 

MRS.  P.  Disturve  me!  You  couldn't  dis- 
turve me  more  if  you  tried. 


Act  /]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  19 

NAN.    I'm  sorry,  Aunt. 

MRS.  P.    You  know  that  perfectly  well. 

NAN.    I'm  sorry,  Aunt. 

MRS.  P.    'Ere,  you  give  me  the  fidgets. 

NAN.  'Ave  you  one  of  your  sick  headaches, 
Aunt? 

MRS.  P.  You  give  me  the  sick  'edache.  One 
would  think  you  might  'ave  'ad  a  little  grati- 
tood. 

NAN.  When  I  was  grateful  you  called  me  a 
'ipocrit. 

MRS.  P.  Oh!  When  was  you  grateful,  as 
you  call  it? 

NAN.  When  I  first  come  'ere.  I  did  my 
best,  I  did.  I  thought  you'd  like  me  if  I  work' 
'ard,  and  'elped  you. 

MRS.  P.    Did  yer  think  I 

NAN.  I  used  to  make  you  tea  afore  you  got 
up  of  a  morning:  I  wash  up  the  dinner  things, 
so  as  you  could  'ave  your  nap  of  a  afternoon. 


20  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

I  never  let  you  do  the  week's  washing,  not  once, 
since  I  come  'ere. 

MRS.  P.  One  'ud  expect  a  little  something. 
After  all  that's  been  done  for  you. 

NAN.  Done  for  me!  What  have  you  ever 
done  for  me? 

MRS.  P.    Given  you  a  'ome. 

NAN.    A  home? 

MRS.  P.  There's  not  many  would  'ave  took 
in  a  girl  'er  dad  being  'ung.  But  I  says  to  your 
uncle — 

NAN.  I  know  what  you  said  to  Uncle.  That 
the  Rector  'ad  asked  you  to  take  me  in.  That's 
what  you  said  to  Uncle.  You  was  afeared  the 
Rector'd  let  it  be  known  if  you  refused.  You 
was  afeared  folk'd  get  to  know  you  for  what  you 
are.  That's  why  you  took  me  in.  [More 
softly.]  D'ye  think  I  don't  know,  Aunt?  I  feel 
I  do.  [Pause.]  And  down  in  the  shop  they  tell 
me  what  a  friend  you've  been  to  me.  "Mrs. 


Act  1}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  21 

Pargetter  'ave  been  kind  tiv  ee,"  they  say. 
And  Mrs.  Drew  at  the  Rectory.  She's  another. 
"  'Ow  grateful  you  must  feel  towards  your 
aunt."  That's  what  she  says.  And  you  smile. 
You  take  it  all  in  smiling.  You  lick  your  lips 
over  all  their  praise.  Or  you  play  the  martyr. 
You  play  the  martyr.  D'ye  think  I  haven't 
heard  you?  "A  lot  of  return  I  get,"  that's  what 
you  say.  They  praise  you  for  being  good  to  me. 
Good!  You!  And  you  make  my  life  here  a 
hell.  You  lick  your  lips  to  make  life  hell  to  me. 
And  you  tell  lies  about  me.  You  mean  woman. 
You  so  holy,  you  tell  lies. 

MR.  P.  [Angrily.]  Now  none  of  that  now. 
That's  enough.  You  leave  the  room. 

MRS.  P.  No,  she'll  not  leave  the  room.  I'll 
learn  'er  to  be'ave  first.  [To  NAN.]  I'd  have 
you  remember  as  your  daily  bread  as  you're  so 
fond  of  is  give  you  by  me  and  your  uncle. 

NAN.    Given  me? 


22  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

MRS.  P.  Per'aps  you'll  deny  as  you  'ave 
your  food — God  knows  you  eat  enough. 

NAN.  And  every  morsel  bitter.  Bitter.  You 
make  it  burn  in  my  throat. 

MRS.  P.  And  a  roof  over  your  'ed,  which  is 
more  than  your  merits. 

NAN.    So  'as  a  man  in  a  prison  a  roof. 

MRS.  P.  Yes.  You're  right.  'E  'as  till  Vs 
'ung.  And  you  'ave  your  clothes.  The  very 
clothes  on  your  back.  Talking  of  clothes,  that 
reminds  me.  Take  that  dirty  coat  of  yours  out 
of  the  pigwash  where  you  put  it.  I  suppose 
you  want  to  poison  the  pigs  next. 

NAN.  [Turning  to  pigwash  trow.]  Oh! 
'Oo've  bin  and  done  that?  [At  the  point  of 
tears.]  I  suppose  you  think  it  funny  to  spoil  a 
poor  girl's  clothes.  And  now  it's  spoiled.  [She 
takes  ribbon  from  pocket.]  And  this  is  spoiled. 
What  I'd  saved  up  for.  Now  I  shan't  have  any. 
You  put  that  in  the  trow.  You  know  you  did. 


On  the  Way  to  the  Hamlet 


Act  /]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  23 

MRS.  P.  You  say  I  put  your  dirty  things  in 
the  trow  and  I'll  put  you  in.  Talk  like  that  to 
me,  will  yer?  One  of  these  days  I'll  give  you 
the  cart  whip,  like  what  you  deserve. 

NAN.  [Turning  to  hide  tears.]  You  read 
your  Bible,  and  you  go  to  church,  and  you  do  a 
thing  like  that.  You  put  a  poor  girl's  coat  in 
the  trow  and  as  good  as  deny  it  afterwards. 

MR.  P.  Now  come,  come,  come.  'Ow  d'yer 
expect  to  be  ready  for  to-night?  Let's  'ave  no 
more  catanddoggin'  here. 

MRS.  P.  I'm  not  talking  to  you.  'Old  yer 
peace.  [Furiously  at  interruption.]  I'm  talk- 
ing to  you.  [To  NAN.]  You're  a  black,  proud, 
ungrateful  cat.  Wot  your  'eart'll  look  like  on 
the  Day  of  Judgemink  beats  me. 

NAN.  Oh!  [Contemptuously — she  opens  out 
the  sopping  coat.] 

MRS.  P.  I'll  give  yer  "oh."  'Ere.  Don't  go 
dripping  the  pigwash  all  about  the  place.  You 


24  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

drop  it.  Give  it  to  me  'ere — 'ere.  [She  snatches 
at  the  coat  and  tries  to  wrench  it  from  NAN'S 
hands.] 

NAN.  Don't  you  dare  to  touch  it.  Let  go 
of  it. 

MRS.  P.    Will  yer.    Leggo  now. 

NAN.  I  won't.  No  you  don't.  You'll  tear  it 
in  another  minute.  I'll  kill  you  if  you  tear  it. 

MRS.  P.    Wot'll  you? 

NAN.    I'll  kill  you.    I'U  kill  you. 

MRS.  P.  [Putting  both  hands  to  the  coat 
and  wrenching  it  free;  then  slashing  it  into 
NAN'S  face.]  I'll  show  you  'oo's  mistress  'ere, 
my  lady.  Now — see.  [She  tears  the  collar  ofj 
and  stamps  on  it.]  There.  You'll  do  what 
you're  told  'ere,  my  lady. 

[NAN  holds  table  and  glares  at  her  aunt,  then 
picks  up  the  cutting  knife.] 

NAN.  [Slowly.]  My  dad  gave  me  that  coat. 
[A  pause.]  My  dad. 


Act  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  25 

MRS.  P.  Mind,  Will,  she's  got  the  knife  in 
'er  'and. 

PAR.  [Going  to  her.]  Give  me  thicky 
knife.  [He  takes  it  from  her.]  No  temper  'ere. 
I've  got  one  score  against  you  already.  Wot's 
come  to  you  to-day? 

MRS.  P.  The  devil's  come  to  'er.  She's 
pretty  near  tore  my  arm  off. 

NAN.     [Slowly.]    You  be  careful. 

MRS.  P.    But  I'll  teach  yer. 

NAN.    You  be  careful. 

PAR.    Nan,  you  go  to  your  room. 

[NAN  sullenly  picks  up  the  torn  coat  and  then 
bursts  into  tears.] 

NAN.  My  dad  give  me  this  coat.  It's  a  dear 
coat.  [She  smooths  out  the  torn  and  crumpled 
stuff.]  And  now  it's  all  torn.  [The  PARGET- 
TERS  watch  her  with  a  sort  of  hard  scorn.]  I'll 
never  be  able  to  wear  en  again.  Oh,  my  dad,  I 
wish  I  was  dead.  I  wish  I  was  dead. 


26  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

PAR.  No  sinful  talk  like  that,  now.  I  won't 
'ave  it. 

NAN.    Uncle!    I  'ave  tried,  I  'ave,  Uncle. 

PAR.  Don't  turn  to  me,  girl.  You'd  ought 
to  turn  to  God — giving  way  to  the  devil — No 
— and  you've  not  been  straight.  If  you'd  told 
me  at  once  I'd  'ave  let  it  pass.  Though  I  felt 
it.  [A  pause,  then  testily.]  Come  now,  be 
straight.  That's  above  all  things.  [A  pause, 
NAN  sobs.]  Eh?  [NAN  sobs.] 

MR.  P.  [Rising.]  'Aven't  you  something 
to  tell  me?' 

NAN.    No!    No! 

PAR.  [Grimly.]  I  thought  you 'ad.  [Turn- 
ing.] 

NAN.    Oh,  Uncle!    Do  'ee. 

MR.  P.     [Going.]    I  didn't  think  it  of  you. 

NAN.    Uncle. 

MR.  P.    I  didn't  think  it. 
[Exit] 


Act  I]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  27 

MRS.  P.  [Going  up  to  her.]  I'll  make  your 
belly  bitter,  like  in  the  Bible. 

NAN.  You!  Oh!  [Turns  from  her.]  Oh, 
Dad,  I  wish  I  were  with  'ee,  I  do. 

MRS.  P.  [Bitterly.]  You'll  spoil  yer  looks 
for  to-night,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  You  won't 
'ave  yer  young  men  neighing  after  yer.  Dirty 
'ogs. 

[NAN  picks  up  apples  and  begins  to  cut 
them,  still  crying.] 

MRS.  P.  I'll  watch  you  with  your  young 
men!  I'm  not  going  to  'ave  no  mothers  com- 
ing round  complaining. 

NAN.  [Slowly.]  I  'ope  you  may  never  feel 
wot  I  feel. 

[Enter  JENNY.] 

JENNY.    Mawther! 

MRS.  P.    'Ush! 

JENNY.  There  be  Dick's  trap  with  the 
groceries. 


28  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

MRS.  P.  Time  too.  'Ere  [to  NAN]  go  and 
get  them! 

NAN.    Me? 

MRS.  P.  Yes,  you.  'Oo  else.  Do  something 
for  your  living  for  once  in  a  way. 

[Exit  NAN.] 

JENNY.    Mother,  wot  'ave  Dad  say? 

MRS.  P.  'Ush  yer  tongue.  I've  made  that 
right. 

JENNY.  0  Mother.  I  thort  'e'd  'ave  my  'ed 
off  for  it. 

MRS.  P.  Never  you  'eed  of  that.  I've  some- 
think  else  to  say  to  you.  That  girl,  Nan — 

JENNY.    Wot,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  [Speaking  very  rapidly.]  You  bet- 
ter watch  out  she  don't  tread  a  thy  corns,  as 
well  as  thy  mother's  she've  a  done. 

JENNY.    Wot  do  'ee  mean,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.    Dick  Gurvil's  'oo  I  mean. 

JENNY.    Oh ! 


Act  n  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  29 

MRS.  P.  Yes,  Dick  Gurvil!  She've  set  'er 
cap  at  Dick. 

JENNY.    Oh ! 

MRS.  P.  [Mimicking.]  Oh!  Oh!  Yes, 
and  Dick  be  sweet  on  'er. 

JENNY.    I  don't  care,  Mother. 

MRS.  Ir.  Yes,  you  do  care.  'Ave  done  o* 
your  folly. 

JENNY.  Dick  can  please  'isself  so  far  as  I'm 
concerned,  I'm  sure. 

MRS.  P.  No  'e  can't  please  'isself,  as  you 
call  it.  'Oo  else'd  yer  get  if  you  lose  'im?  You 
take  a  man  when  you  can  get  'im.  There  ain't 
too  many,  let  me  tell  yer. 

JENNY.  I  do-an't  care,  I'm  sure.  I  don't 
want  no  men. 

MRS.  P.  Don't  you  want.  You  listen  to  me. 
You  got  ter  want.  Whether  you  like  or  not.  I 
ain't  goin'  to  'ave  you  the  talk  of  the  town. 


30  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

JENNY.  Lor,  Mother!  I  didn't  think  of 
that. 

MRS.  P.    No,  I  know  you  didn't  think. 

JENNY.    Lor,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.  'Oo  'ad  'er  man  took  by  a  gallus- 
bird. 

JENNY.    Would  they  say  that,  Mother? 

MRS.  P.  'Go's  she  to  take  Dick  Gurvil?  If 
you'd  any  pride — 

JENNY.  Be  you  sure  she  be  a-trying  for 
Dick? 

MRS.  P.    Well,  you  best  find  out. 

JENNY.    I'll  watch  it,  I  will. 

MRS.  P.  [As  NAN  enters.]  Ah!  you'd  a 
better!  Now  I  got  to  see  to  the  'ouse-work. 
I'll  expect  you  to  'ave  everythink  ready  against 
I  come  back.  [To  NAN.]  You  may  think  as 
you're  someone.  I'll  learn  you  different.  None 
o'  your  tricks,  'ere.  No!  Nor  none  of  your 


Act  n  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  31 

mother's  carryings  on.  [A  pause.]  With  men. 
That's  wot  I  mean  .  .  .  Gallus-bird. 

[She  goes  out,  NAN  draws  a  chair  to  the  table 
—JENNY  is  already  seated — and  begins  to  cut 
apples.  She  is  crying.  She  gathers  the  torn 
coat  together  tenderly.] 

JENNY.  Never  mind  mother,  Nan.  She 
don't  mean  nothin'! 

NAN.    I  don't — 

JENNY.  She  be  only  put  out  by  'avin'  com- 
p'ny  to-night. 

NAN.  It's  not!  It's  not!  Oh,  she'd  ought 
to  leave  my  father. 

JENNY.  There,  there  now — let  I  get  'ee 
some  warm  warter  off  the  'ob.  Your  eyes'll  be 
as  red  as  red. 

NAN.    I  don't  care,  I  don't  care. 

JENNY.  Why,  come  now.  Us  be  going  to 
be  girt  friends,  us  be,  ben't  us?  Mother  be  a 
'ard  woman  to  please.  But  'er  don't  mean  it. 


32  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

NAN.  Her  do  speak  so  bitter.  They  be  all 
against  me!  The  'ole  world  be  against  me. 

JENNY.  [With  bowl  of  water  and  a  hand- 
kerchief.] Do  'ee  jest  mop  thy  eyes.  Or  let  I. 

NAN.  It  be  kind  of  you  to  trouble.  What 
a  girt  silly  I  be  to  cry  so ! 

JENNY.  Your  eyes'll  be  as  red.  Come, 
come!  There  be  'andsome  young  men  a- 
comin'.  I  wouldn't  wonder  as  they  be  all  sweet 
on  you!  I  wouldn't  wonder  as  you'd  'ave  a 
sweet'eart  some  Easter. 

NAN.    A  sweet'eart!    A  charity  girl! 

JENNY.  Don't  take  it  to  'eart.  Us  be  goin* 
to  be  friends,  ben't  us,  dear? 

NAN.    It  be  kind  of  you  to  speak  kind. 

JENNY.  And  us'll  go  out  of  a  Sunday.  Why, 
us'll  be  girt  friends.  It  go  to  my  'eart  to  think 
of  thy  trouble. 

NAN.    Will  'ee  be  a  friend,  Cousin  Jenny? 


At  Broad  Oak 


Act  7]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  33 

JENNY.  There,  there.  Wot  pretty  eyes  you 
'ave.  Your  'air's  thicker  than  mine.  'Ow  you 
do  a  set  it  off.  Us'll  'ave  no  secrets,  will  us? 

NAN.  'Ee  will  be  my  friend,  won't  'ee, 
Jenny?  Do-an't  'ee  be  agen  me — I  couldn't 
bear  it  if  you  turned  against  me.  I've  some- 
times been  near  killing  myself  since  I  came 
here.  Your  mother's  been  that  bitter  to  me. 

JENNY.    Don't  'ee  say  such  things. 

NAN.  Jenny,  I'll  tell  'ee  why  I  didn't  kill 
myself. 

JENNY.    Lord,  Nan,  doa-n't  'ee. 

NAN.  I  want  'ee  to  bear  with  me,  Jenny. 
I'll  tell  'ee  why  I  didn't  kill  myself.  I  thought 
.  .  .  there  .  .  .  it's  only  nonsense.  Did  you 
ever  think  about  men,  Jenny?  About  loving  a 
man?  About  marriage? 

JENNY.  I've  'oped  to  'ave  a  'ome  of  my 
own.  And  not  to  be  a  burden  'ere  and  that. 


34  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

NAN.    Ah!    But  about  'elping  a  man? 

JENNY.  A  man  'as  strength.  'E  ought  to 
'elp  a  woman. 

NAN.    I  could  'elp  a  man,  Jenny. 

JENNY.    Wot  ideyers  you  do  'ave! 

NAN.  When  a  girl's  'eart  is  breaking,  Jenny, 
she  'as  ideyers. 

JENNY.    Ah ! 

NAN.    Jenny! 

JENNY.    Yes,  Nan? 

NAN.  I've  never  talked  to  a  woman  like  this 
afore.  I  felt  I'd  die  if  I  couldn't  talk  to  some- 
one. 

JENNY.    I  know,  exackly! 

NAN.  When  I  see  you  so  kind,  and  you  so 
pretty,  Jenny,  I  felt  I  must  speak. 

JENNY.    Do  you  think  me  pretty,  Nan? 

NAN.    Yes,  Jenny. 

JENNY.  In  service  they  thought  me  pretty. 
All  but  cook. 


Act  7]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  35 

NAN.    You  are  pretty,  Jenny. 

JENNY.  Cook  was  a  unpleasant  old  thing. 
She  did  'er  'air  in  papers.  No  ladies  do  their 
'air  in  papers!  Ow!  she  was  'orrid  of  a  morn- 
ing. 0!  the  waste  I  see  go  on  in  that  'ouse. 
They  'ad  pastry  every  day.  And  the  ladies  had 
milk  and  biscuits  at  eleven  of  a  morning. 

NAN.  You  must  tell  me  all  your  secrets, 
Jenny. 

JENNY.  That  I  will.  And  will  'ee  tell  I  all 
yourn? 

NAN.    If  you  like,  Jenny. 

JENNY.  And  will  'ee  tell  I  when  you  'ave  a 
sweet'eart? 

NAN.  Ah !  A  sweet'eart.  You  must  tell  me 
about  yours,  Jenny. 

JENNY.    Ah !    I  ain't  got  one  yet. 

NAN.    'Aven't  you,  Jenny? 

JENNY.    Noa.    Not  one  special  like. 


36  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  1 

NAN.  You'll  'ave  one  soon,  Jenny.  0 
Jenny,  I  hope  you'll  be  very  'appy. 

JENNY.  Love  be  queer,  ben't  it?  The 
things  it  makes  people  do.  Could  'ee  fancy  a 
man,  Nan? 

NAN.    Perhaps. 

JENNY.    Ugly  girt  scrawfs,  I  think  they  be. 

NAN.    Not  all  of  them. 

JENNY.  Perhaps  you  'ave  a  fancy,  Nan? 
'Ave  you,  dear?  'Ave  you?  'Oo  be  it,  Nan? 
Tell  me,  dearie.  I  wouldn't  tell  a  single  soul. 
Tell  me,  Nan.  You  said  as  you'd  'ave  no  se- 
crets from  me. 

NAN.    Ah! 

JENNY.    Is  it  anyone  I  know? 

[NAN  goes  to  her  and  puts  an  arm  round  her 
and  kisses  her.] 

NAN.    Yes,  dear. 

JENNY.    Be  it  Artie  Pearce? 

NAN.    No,  Jenny. 


Act  1}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  37 

JENNY.  'Oo  be  it.  It  be  a  shame  not  to  tell 
me! 

NAN.    Jenny  dear? 

JENNY.    Yes,  Nan.    Tell  me  now.    Whisper. 

NAN.     It  be  Dick  Gurvil,  Jenny. 

JENNY.    Dick  Gurvil? 

NAN.    I  love  him.    I  love  him. 

JENNY.    Do  you  love  him  very  much? 

NAN.  It  feel  like  my  'eart  was  in  flower, 
Jenny. 

JENNY.  Ah!  It  must.  [A  pause.]  I  'ope 
you'll  be  very  'appy.  You  and  Mr.  Gurvil. 

NAN.    God  bless  you,  Jenny. 

JENNY.  What  eyes  you  have  got,  Cousin 
Nan.  To  think  of  you  fancying  Dick!  It  be 
nice  to  'ave  you  for  a  friend,  Cousin  Nan. 

NAN.  Kiss  me,  dear.  You've  never  kissed 
me. 

JENNY.  There!  Go  and  bathe  thy  eyes, 
Nan.  They'll  be  red  if  'ee  don't.  'Ee  mustn't 


38  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  I 

'ave  them  red  for  Dick  to-night.     Bathe  'era 
in  cold. 

NAN.    I  could  cry,  I  could.    [She  goes  slowly 
out.] 

JENNY.     [At  the  other  door.]    Mother.    [A 
pause.]    [Softly.]    Mother. 

MRS.  P.     [Off.]    Yes! 

JENNY.    Come  'ere  a  moment. 

MRS.  P.     [Wiping  her  hands.]    What  d'yer 
want  now? 

JENNY.    About  Nan. 

MRS.  P.    Wot?    Wot  about  'er? 

JENNY.     [Giggling.]     She  be  soft  on  Dick, 
Mother.    Her've  a-told  me. 

MRS.  P.    Ho! 

JENNY.     [Giggling.]    Us'll  'ave  to  watch  it, 
Mother. 

MRS.  P.    I'll  watch  it. 

CURTAIN 


ACT  II 

Scene: — The  kitchen.    NAN  tidying  up.    She 
places  tray,  glasses  and  bottle  in  inner  room. 

NAN.     [Sings.]  .  .  . 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winds  of  winter  blow, 
And  cover  me  with  sparklen  snow, 
And  tear  the  branches  from  the  tree, 
And  strew  the  dead  leaves  over  me. 
DICK.     [Coming  in.]     Miss  Nan. 
NAN.    Why,  Mr.  Gurvil!    What  a  start  you 
give  me.    You  be  early. 

DICK.    Ah?    When'll  the  others  be  'ere? 
NAN.    Not  yet.    It's  not  half  past  yet. 
DICK.    When'll  the  others — Mrs.  Pargetter 
— be  down? 

NAN.    They  won't  be  down  this  ten  minutes. 
They  be  dressing. 


40  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

DICK.    And  'aven't  the  fiddler  come? 

NAN.    No. 

DICK.     Per'aps  I'd  a  better  go  out  again. 

NAN.  No.  Come  in  and  sit  down,  Mr.  Dick. 
They'll  be  'ere  direckly.  I'll  be  done.  Tell  me 
the  news  in  the  great  world.  What  be 
'appening? 

DICK.  They  do  say  there  be  a  criminal  a- 
broak  loose.  Out  of  Glorster  jail. 

NAN.     Indeed ! 

DICK.  And  come  'idin'  'ere  somewhere,  they 
think. 

NAN.    What  makes  them  think  that? 

DICK.  I  dunno.  But  there  be  a  Bow  Street 
runner.  And  there  be  a  gentleman  come. 
They  were  askin'  where  Parson  live.  They 
must  be  'avin'  a  hue  and  cry.  Hope  they'll 
catch  'im  and  'ang  'im.  I'd  like  to  sick  the 
dogs  at  'em. 


Act  77]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  41 

NAN.  They  be  'uman  beings,  like  us  be,  Mr. 
Dick. 

DICK.  [Undoing  his  neck-cloth.]  No,  they 
ben't  like  us.  That  be  where  you  women  go 
wrong.  Along  of  your  'earts,  that  is.  I'd  like 
to  see  all  criminals  'anged.  Then  us  honest 
ones  might  fare  to  prosper.  [He  takes  off  neck- 
cloth.] 

NAN.  What'll  you  take,  Mr.  Dick,  after 
your  walk? 

DICK.    What  be  going? 

NAN.  'Ave  some  zider  and  a  cake.  They  be 
in  the  next  room,  ready. 

DICK.  If  it  ben't  troubling  you,  I  ull. 

[NAN  fetches  mug  and  plate.] 

DICK.  [Taking  a  cake.]  I'd  ought  to  be 
a-waiting  on  you,  not  you  a-waiting  on  me. 
Only  I  'aven't  any  angel-cakes  'ere.  None  but 
angel-cakes  'd  be  fit  eating  for  you,  Miss  Nan. 


42  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

NAN.  Oh,  now,  I  wonder  how  many  girls 
you've  made  that  speech  to. 

DICK.    None,  I  never. 

NAN.    Well,  I  hope  you  like  your  cake? 

DICK.  It  be  beautiful.  A  spice-cake,  when 
it  be  split  and  buttered,  and  just  set  to  the  fire, 
so  as  the  butter  runs.  I  don't  mean  to  toast  it; 
but  just  set  to  the  fire,  and  then  just  a  sprinkle 
of  sugar  to  give  it  a  taste.  No  so  as  to  make 
it  sweet,  you  know.  It  go  down  like  roses.  Like 
kissing  a  zweet'eart  at  'arvest  tune.  When  the 
girt  moon  be  zhining. 

NAN.  If  they  be  all  that  to  you,  Mr.  Dick, 
you  must  'ave  another.  Try  and  think  the 
clock  be  the  moon  a-zhining. 

[She  gets  more  cakes.] 

DICK.  It  be  lovely  'aving  cakes  and  you 
bringing  them  to  me.  [Bites.]  But  there  ben't 
no  sugar,  not  on  this  one.  Miss  Nan,  will  'ee 


Act  m  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  43 

jest  put  thy  pretty  'and  on  this  cake,  and  then 
it'll  be  sugared  lovely. 

NAN.  I'm  not  going  to  do  anything  so  silly. 
'Ere.  Take  this  one.  This  one  be  sugared. 

DICK.  [Eating.]  It  'ud  be  just  'eaven  if 
you'd  'ave  'alf  of  it.  So's  I  might  feel — some- 
'ow — as — 

NAN.  No.  I  won't  'ave  any.  'Ave  another 
drop  of  zider. 

DICK.  [Tasting.]  Your  zider  be  too  peert, 
Miss  Nan.  I  like  zider  to  be  peert,  like  I  likes 
my  black  puddens  done,  up  to  a  point.  But 
zider's  peert's  this — I  tell  you  what  it  want. 
It  want  to  'ave  a  apple  roast  therein,  and  a  sod 
toast  therein,  and  then  it  want  to  'ave  a  nutmeg 
grated  ever  so  light,  not  rough,  yer  know.  And 
then  it  be  made  mellow,  like,  like  tart  of  a 
Sunday. 

NAN.  Why,  Mr.  Dick,  you'd  ought  to  have 
been  a  cook,  I  think. 


44  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

DICK.  My  father  say  to  me — "Mind  thy  in- 
nards," he  say.  I  'ad  to  do  for  my  father,  arter 
mother  died.  Very  pertiklar  about  his  innards 
dad  were.  I  learned  about  innards  from  'im. 

NAN.  It  be  wonderful  to  'ave  a  father  to  do 
for.  To  think  as  he  knowed  'ee  when  you  were 
a  little  un.  To  think  as  perhaps  'e  give  up  lots 
o'  things,  so's  you  might  fare  to  be  great  in  the 
world. 

DICK.  My  dad  never  give  up.  'E  said  'e 
try  it  once,  just  to  try  like.  It  never'd  'ave  suit 
my  dad. 

NAN.  It  be  always  'ard  for  a  man  to  give 
up,  even  for  a  child,  they  say.  But  a  woman 
'as  to  give  up.  You  don't  know.  You  never 
think  per'aps  what  a  woman  gives  up.  She 
gives  up  'er  beauty  and  'er  peace.  She  gives 
up  'er  share  of  joy  in  the  world.  All  to  bear  a 
little  one;  as  per'aps'll  not  give  'er  bread  when 
'er  be  wold. 


On  the  Green 


Act  m  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  45 

DICK.  I  wonder  women  ever  want  to  'ave 
children.  They  be  so  beautiful  avore  they  'ave 
children.  They  'ave  their  red  cheeks,  so  soft. 
And  sweet  lips  so  red's  red.  And  their  eyes 
bright,  like  stars  a-zhining.  And  oh,  such  white 
soft  'ands.  Touch  one  of  'em,  and  you  'ave 
like  shoots  all  down.  Beau-ti-vul.  Love-lee. 

NAN.  It  be  a  proud  thing  to  'ave  a  beauty 
to  raise  love  in  a  man. 

DICK.  And  after.  I  seen  the  same  girls, 
with  their  'ands  all  rough  of  washing-day,  and 
their  fingers  all  scarred  of  stitching.  And  their 
cheeks  all  flaggin',  and  sunk.  And  dull  as 
toads'  bellies,  the  colour  of  'em.  And  their  eyes 
be  'eavy,  like  a  foundered  wold  ewe's  when  'er 
time  be  on  'er.  And  lips  all  bit.  And  there 
they  do  go  with  the  backache  on  'em.  Pitiful, 
I  call  it.  Draggin'  their  wold  raggy  skirts.  And 
the  baby  crying.  And  little  Dick  with  'is  nose 
all  bloody,  fallen  in  the  grate.  And  little  Sairey 


46  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

fell  in  the  yard,  and  'ad  'er  'air  mucked.  Ah ! 
Ugh!  It  go  to  my  'eart. 

NAN.  Ah,  but  that  ben't  the  all  of  love,  Mr. 
Dick.  It  be  'ard  to  see  beauty  gone,  and  joy 
gone,  and  a  light  'eart  broke.  But  it  be  won- 
derful for  to  'ave  little  ones.  To  'ave  brought 
life  into  the  world.  To  'ave  'ad  them  little  live 
things  knocking  on  your  'eart,  all  them  months. 
And  then  to  feed  them.  'Elpless  like  that. 

DICK.  They  be  pretty,  little  ones  be,  when 
they  be  kept  clean  and  that.  I  likes  'earing 
them  sing  'imns.  I  likes  watching  the  little 
boys  zwimming  in  the  river.  They  be  so  white 
and  swift,  washing  themselves.  And  the 
splashin'  do  shine  zo.  Diamonds.  'Oo  be  com- 
ing 'ere  to-night — 'sides  us? 

NAN.  Old  Gaffer  Pearce  be  a-comin'  to 
fiddle. 

DICK.    He'd  ought  to  be  in  mad'ouse,  Gaffer 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  47 

did.  Dotty  owd  gape.  He  ben't  wholly  stal- 
wart in  uns  brains,  folk  do  observe.  But — 

NAN.    He  been  a  beautiful  fiddler. 

DICK.    He  been  a  wonder,  that  old  man  'ave. 

NAN.  'E  play  wonderful  still,  when  'e  gets 
thinking  of  old  times,  and  of  'is  girl  as  'e  calls 
'er.  Why,  she've  been  dead  fifty  years  and 
more. 

DICK.  She  was  beautiful.  They  call  'er  the 
Star  of  the  West.  My  dad  'ave  tell  of  'er.  She 
'ad  a  face  like  cream. 

NAN.  He  made  beautiful  poems  to  'er;  and 
music,  'e  did.  I  'card  'im  sing  'is  poems  once. 
He  was  fiddlin'  quiet-like,  all  the  time  'e  were 
a-singing;  and  the  tears  standing  in  'is  eyes. 
'E's  never  been  quite  right  since  the  Lord  'ad 
mercy  on  'er. 

DICK.     'Oo  else's  comin'  'sides  Gaffer? 

NAN.  Tommy  and  Artie.  What  a  'andsome 
boy  Artie  be  grown. 


48  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

DICK.  Ah?  I  'ear  'em  say  that.  I  couldn't 
ever  see  it. 

NAN.  He  be  just  like  his  mother.  Black 
and  comely. 

DICK.  I  likes  a  good  black.  I  likes  a  good 
brown,  a  good  bay  brown.  I  likes  a  good  black 
too.  There  be  bright  blacks  and  there  be  dull 
blacks.  Now  what  be  the  black  as  I  likes? 
Your  'air  is  jest  the  very  colour.  Beautiful  I 
call  it. 

NAN.  [Getting  up.]  If  you  ben't  going  to 
'ave  more  zider  I'll  take  your  mug,  Mr.  Dick. 
Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.    Yes. 

NAN.  We've  'ad  a  sheep  die  on  us  last  week. 
Don't  you  'ave  none  of  our  'ot  mutton  pies 
to-night. 

DICK.  Ah?  I  'ope  you'll  give  me  twice  of 
trotters,  instead  like,  I  can  do  with  a  trotter,  I 


Act  II]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  49 

can.  I  s'pose  us  be  going  to  'ave  great  times 
'ere  to-night,  Miss  Nan. 

NAN.  Yes,  indeed.  Us'll  dance  the  moon 
down  to-night. 

DICK.    I  s'pose  you  be  a  girt  lady  to  dance? 

NAN.  I've  not  dance  now,  for  more'n  a  year, 
Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.  I  s'pose  you  'ad  dancings  when  you 
were  to  'ome. 

NAN.  Us  used  to  dance  on  our  doorsteps  at 
'ome.  There  was  an  old  man  used  to  fiddle  to 
us.  Every  night  there  was  a  moon,  we  danced. 
The  girls  would  dance  in  their  pattens.  They 
used  to  go  clack,  clack,  their  feet  did.  You'd 
a  thought  it  was  drums,  Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.  I  wish  I'd  bin  there  to  'ave  dance 
with  you. 

NAN.  And  then  we  used  to  sing  "Joan  to 
the  Maypole"  and  "Randal"  and  all  the  old 


50  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

songs.  And  there'd  be  beetles  a  buzzin'.  And 
sometimes  one  of  the  shepherds  come  with  'is 
flute.  It  was  nice  at  'ome,  then. 

DICK.  What  times  us  be  'avin'  since  you 
come  'ere.  It  be  always  sad  to  leave  'ome.  But 
I  s'pose  you'll  be  going  back  afore  long.  Your 
dad  and  your  mother'll  be  a-wanting  you. 
Sure  to  be. 

NAN.    They  be  dead,  Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.  Now,  be  they  indeed!  Mrs.  Parget- 
ter  do  talk's  though  you  'ad  both  your  folk. 

NAN.  Mrs.  Pargetter!  She  has  'er  reasons, 
Mr.  Dick,  for  letting  folk  think  that. 

DICK.  What  reasons  can  'er  'ave  for  that, 
Miss  Nan? 

NAN.  Some  day,  per'aps  I'll  tell  you  'er 
reasons.  Now  let  I  take  your  coat  and  that. 

[She  takes  coat,  hat,  etc.,  and  puts  them  in 
inner  room.  Then  re-enters.] 


Act  It}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  51 

DICK.  'Ow  brave  you  be  a-looking,  Miss 
Nan. 

NAN.    Soap  and  water  tells,  they  do  say. 

DICK.  You  be  all  roses,  Miss  Nan.  And 
you  be  all  lilies. 

NAN.  Why,  Mr.  Dick!  You  be  quite  the 
courtier. 

DICK.  Ah!  [Producing  a  rose.]  Miss 
Nan? 

NAN.    Yes? 

DICK.    I  brought  a  rose — 

NAN.    For  Jenny,  Mr.  Dick? 

DICK.  No,  for  'ee.  Will  'ee  wear  it,  Miss 
Nan? 

NAN.    Yes,  if  you'll  give  it  to  me. 

DICK.  'Ere  it  be.  Will  'ee  say  thank  you 
for  it? 

NAN.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Dick.  What  a  beau- 
tiful rose! 


52  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

DICK.  'Er  be  a  Campden  Wonder.  'Er  be 
red.  Like  love.  Love  be  red.  Like  roses. 

NAN.    Oh! 

DICK.  I  see  that  rose  growing,  Miss  Nan 
— an'  I — I  thought  'er'd  look  beautiful  if — if 
— if  you  were  wearing  of  'er,  like. 

NAN.    Well,  I  hope  it  does. 

DICK.  You  put  'er  to  the  blush,  Miss  Nan 
— Miss  Nan — 

NAN.    Yes? 

DICK.    Will  you  do  I  a  favour? 

NAN.    What  is  it? 

DICK.    Will  'ee  wear  that  rose  in  your  hair? 

NAN.     In  my  hair,  Mr.  Dick !    Why? 

DICK.  I  'ad  a  dream  once  of  you  with  roses 
in  your  hair. 

NAN.  [Putting  rose  in  her  hair.]  In  the 
old  times  women  always  put  roses  in  their  hair. 
When  they  danced,  they  wore  roses  in  their 


Act  11}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  53 

hair.  The  rose-leaves  fell  all  about  'en,  my 
mother  told  me. 

DICK.  It  looks  like  it  were  growing  out  of 
your  'ed. 

NAN.    I  must  light  the  lamp. 

DICK.    No,  don't  'ee.    Don't  'ee. 

NAN.  [Striking  a  match.}  They  must  have 
looked  beautiful,  those  women  must,  in  the  old 
time.  There  was  songs  made  of  them.  Beauty 
be  a  girt  gift,  Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.    It  be  wonderful  in  a  woman. 

NAN.  It  makes  a  woman  like  God,  Mr. 
Dick. 

DICK.  You  be  beautiful,  Nan ;  you  be  beau- 
tiful. 

NAN.    Ah,  Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.  You  be  beautiful.  You  be  like  a  fairy. 
The  rose.  You  be  beautiful  like  in  my  dream. 

NAN.  Ah!  Let  go  my  hands.  Let  go  my 
hands. 


54  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

DICK.  You  be  beautiful.  Your  eyes.  And 
your  face  so  pale.  And  your  hair  with  the  rose. 
0  Nan,  you  be  lovely.  You  be  lovely! 

NAN.    O  don't!    Don't! 

DICK.    My  love,  my  beloved. 

NAN.    Ah! 

DICK.    I  love  you,  0  Nan,  I  love  you. 

NAN.    Let  me  go :  let  me  go,  please. 

DICK.  Do  'ee  care  for  me?  Do  'ee  love  me, 
Nan? 

NAN.  You  don't  know!  You  don't  know! 
You  don't  know  about  me. 

DICK.    I  love  you. 

NAN.  Ah !  You  mustn't.  You  mustn't  love 
me. 

DICK.  There  be  no  high  queen  'as  a  beauty 
like  yours,  Nan. 

NAN.    0!  let  me  go. 

DICK.    My  love!    My  'andsome! 

NAN.    O!    Dick. 


Act  //]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  55 

DICK.    Nan,  0  Nan,  do  'ee  love  me? 

NAN.    Ah! 

DICK.  Dear  sweet.  Will  'ee  mary  me?  Do 
'ee  love  me? 

NAN.    I  love  you,  Dick. 

DICK.    My  love!    My  pretty! 

NAN.    My  dear  love. 

DICK.  My  beautiful.  I'll  make  a  song  for 
you,  my  beautiful. 

NAN.    Your  loving  me,  that's  song  enough. 

DICK.  Nan,  dear,  let  I  take  the  pins  out  of 
your  hair.  Let  me  'ave  your  'air  all  loose.  Your 
lovely  hair.  0  Nan,  you  be  a  beautiful  woman. 

NAN.    Ah,  God !    I  wish  I  were  beautiful. 

DICK.    Dear  love,  you  be. 

NAN.  More  beautiful.  Then  I'd  'ave  more 
to  give  you. 

DICK.    Kiss  me.    Kiss  me! 

NAN.  There  be  my  'air,  Dick.  It  ben't 
much,  after  all. 


56  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

DICK.  [Kissing  the  hair.]  Oh,  beautiful. 
Beau-ti-vul.  My  own  Nan. 

NAN.    I  am  yours,  my  beloved. 

DICK.  When  shall  us  be  married?  When 
shall  us  come  together? 

NAN.  Ah,  my  love!  Now  is  enough.  Now 
is  enough. 

DICK.    When  shall  us  marry? 

NAN.    Kiss  me. 

DICK.    Shall  it  be  Michaelmas? 

NAN.    Kiss  me.    Kiss  me. 

DICK.    My  winsome.    My  beauty. 

NAN.  Now  loose  me,  darling.  [They 
break.]  I  have  had  my  moment.  I  have  been 
happy. 

DICK.    Nan !    Nan ! 

NAN.  I  cannot  marry  you.  0  Dick,  'ee 
must  go  away.  Go  away.  [He  goes  toward 
her.]  Don't  'ee.  Us  can  never  many.  You'd 
'ate  me  if  you  knew.  I  can't  tell  you.  Not 


The  Lanes,  Broad  Oak 


Act  H]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  57 

to-night,  dear.  They'll  be  coming  down  di- 
rectly. If  I  married  you,  Dick?  Oh,  I  can't. 
I  can't — if  I  married  you — if  we  lived  'ere — I 
might  bring  shame  upon  you.  They'd  call 
names  after  me.  They'd  know.  They'd  know. 

DICK.  My  pretty!  My  Nan.  Tell  thy 
Dick. 

NAN.  Ah,  no,  no.  Don't  touch  me.  You 
don't  know  yet.  I'm — not  a  fit — I'm  not  a  fit 
woman  for  you  to  marry,  Dick.  My  father. 
My  poor  dad.  [She  breaks  down.]  0  Dick! 
0  Dick !  You  don't  know  what  sorrows  I  gone 
through.  I  think  my  'eart'll  break. 

DICK.  There,  there,  Nan.  Tell  thy  Dick. 
My  poor  dearie.  You  be  my  dear  love  now, 
Nan. 

NAN.  If  you  love  me,  Dick — 0,  my  love! 
Us  together!  Us  needn't  fear  what  they  say. 
Us  could  go  away,  Dick.  To  America.  Us'd 
be  'appy  there.  0  Dick,  take  me  out  of  this. 


58  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

All  we  'ave  is  our  lives,  Dick.  With  love,  us'd 
never  want.  Us'd  'ave  that,  my  love.  Take 
me,  Dick. 

DICK.  I'll  take  you,  darling.  To-night.  To- 
night I'll  tell  them. 

NAN.  In  spite  of — even  if — what  I  'ave  to 
say? 

DICK.  No  matter  what  it  is,  dear.  To- 
night, now.  To-night.  When  the  fiddler 
comes. 

NAN.    Ah!  my  beloved! 

DICK.  I'll  claim  you.  Before  them  all,  I'll 
claim  you. 

NAN.    Your  wife,  my  blessed. 

DICK.    Kiss  me,  once  more,  dear. 

NAN.    Before  they  come. 

[Outside  the  door  there  is  a  shuffling  and 
giggling.] 

A  VOICE.    They  be  in.    I  hear  'em. 

A  VOICE.    They  ben't. 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  59 

A  VOICE.    Don't  Artie.   [Together,  rapidly.] 

A  VOICE.    Sh! 

A  VOICE.    All  together. 

A  VOICE.    One  after  the  other. 

DICK.    Here  they  are. 

NAN.    My  beloved!    My  own. 

VOICES. 

"Joan,  to  the  maypole  away  let  us  on 
The  time  is  short  and  will  be  gone — " 

[They  stop  and  giggle.] 

ANOTHER.    They  ben't. 

[One  hums  the  tune.] 

DICK.    To-night.    Before  them  all.    When 
the  fiddle  begins.    My  wife. 

NAN.    My  husband. 

VOICES.    "Where    your    beauties    may    be 
seen."    Bang!     Bang!     Bang! 

[They  knock  the  door.    The  LOVERS  break. 
MRS.  PARGETTER  and  JENNY  run  downstairs  as 

NAN  flings  the  door  open.    Enter  old  GAFFER 


60  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

PEARCE,  ARTIE  of  that  ilk,  TOMMY  ARKER  and 
two  GIRLS.] 

MRS.  P.  'Ere  you  be.  'Ow  nice  it  is  to  see 
you.  [She  kisses  the  girls  and  looks  hard  at 
NAN.] 

JENNY.  [To  DICK.]  Ah,  Mr.  Gurvil.  'Ave 
you  brought  I  the  rose  as  you  promised? 

DICK.    You  don't  want  no  roses. 

JENNY.    You  ain't  very  polite,  Mr.  Dick. 

DICK.  You  got  roses  in  your  cheeks,  you 
'ave. 

MRS.  P.    'Ow  be  you,  gaffer? 

[General  salutation.] 

ARTIE.  Granfer  doan't  'ear  you,  unless  you 
'it  'im.  [Shouts  in  his  ear.]  'Ow  be  you, 
granfer? 

GAFFER.  [Looking  at  NAN.]  Twice  I  seen 
her,  twice.  Her've  gone  by  on  the  road.  With 
a  rose  hi  'er  'air.  And  'er  eyes  shone.  Twice. 
In  April. 


Act  m  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  61 

ARTIE.  'Ere,  gaffer!  Sit  down  'ere.  'E  can 
fiddle  still,  th'owd  granfer  do;  but  'e  doan't 
talk,  not  to  strangers. 

A  GIRL.  Us  seed  some  strangers  in  the  vil- 
lage, Mrs.  Pargetter. 

MRS.  P.    Ah? 

TOM.  They  were  askin'  where  your  'ouse 
was.  Them  and  parson. 

ARTIE.  'Ave  you  been  a-robbin',  Mrs.  Par- 
getter? 

MRS.  PAR.  A-robbin'!  No.  I  'ave  enough 
of  thieves  without  me  going  stealin',  I  'ope. 

ARTIE.    Well.    One  of  'em  be  a  runner,  'e  be. 

DICK.    Yes,  for  I  seed  'en  too. 

MRS.  P.  0!  So  you  didn't  come  with  th' 
others,  then,  Dick? 

DICK.    Noa.      But  I  seen  'en. 

ALL.    I  wonder  whatever  they  do  want! 

MRS.  PAR.    Well.    If  they're  coming  'ere,  us 


62  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

shall  soon  know.  I  should  a-thought  the  pleece 
could  a-caught  their  own  thieves. 

[Old  PAKGETTER  comes  downstairs,  button- 
ing his  waistcoat.] 

MR.  P.    Aha!    Aha! 

ALL.    'Ow  be  you,  Mr.  Pargetter? 

MR.  PAR.  [Saluting.]  Why,  'ow  beautiful 
all  you  girls  be  looking!  'Ullo,  Dick!  You  be 
quite  the  bridegroom.  Why  gaffer,  what  a  old 
Pocahontas  you  be,  to  be  sure!  'Ave  you 
brought  your  fiddle? 

GAFFER.  [Still  staring  at  NAN.]  'Oo  be 
her?  On  the  roads,  shining,  I've  seen  'er.  Scat- 
tering blossoms,  blossoms. 

JENNY.  [After  glancing  at  GAFFER.]  So 
you  come  'ere  early,  Dick.  Why  Nan,  do  look. 
You  'aven't  a-done  your  'air.  Look,  Mother,  at 
Nan's  'air! 

MRS.  PAR.    What  in  the  name  of  Fate  d'you 


Act  II]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  63 

'ave  that  rose  in  your  'air  for?  Any  why  d'yer 
come  down  with  your  'air  like  that? 

NAN.  I  had  to  open  the  door.  I  had  to 
light  the  candle. 

GAFFER.  Give  I  a  cup  of  red  wine  and  a  cup 
of  white  wine,  and  honey.  [Coming  towards 
her.]  And  a  apple  and  a — I  be  goin'  to  fiddle 
joy  to  the  feet  of  the  bride. 

ARTIE.  You  be  going  to  do  wonders,  you  be. 
Sit  down,  you  old  stupe.  Ain't  no  bride  'ere. 

MR.  P.  [To  the  GIRLS.]  There  be  brides  for 
us  all.  With  all  you  lovely  young  things. 
Nothing  like  'aving  a  sweet'eart.  Now!  You 
ladies,  you'll  want  to  take  off  your  things. 

ARTIE.     'Ow  about  us? 

MR.  PAR.  One  sect  at  a  time.  Like  the 
sheep  goin'  through  a  'edge.  Per'aps  you 
ladies'll  go  upstairs  with  Nan  and  Jenny  'ere. 

NAN.    Come,  Ellen. 


64  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

JENNY.    'Ere !    Give  I  your  brolly. 

[The  GIRLS  go  upstairs.] 

MR.  PAR.  Now,  you  gentlemen.  Come  on 
in  'ere  with  me.  [He  leads  them  to  the  inner 
room.] 

MRS.  PAR.     [As  DICK  follows.]     Oh,  Dick. 

DICK.    Ess,  Mrs.  Pargetter. 

MRS.  PAR.  I  see  you  'ave  your  things  off. 
Just  'elp  me  a  moment,  there's  a  good  lad. 

DICK.  Ess,  Mrs.  Pargetter.  What  do  'e 
want  done? 

MRS.  PAR.  Us  must  'ave  all  clear  for  danc- 
ing. I'll  nip  them  candles  over  'ere  to  the 
dresser.  There.  Now  'elp  me  lift  the  table 
over.  There!  You  was  'ere  early,  wasn't  yer, 
Dick? 

DICK.  Nothin'  to  speak  of.  'Ow  about 
them  chairs? 

MRS.  PAR.  They'll  do  nicely.  I  suppose 
Nan  let  you  in? 


At  Broad  Oak 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  65 

DICK.    Ess.    Miss  Nan  done. 

MRS.  PAR.  You  two  been  'aving  a  fine  game, 
I  know. 

DICK.    Ah? 

MRS.  PAR.  Don't  tell  me  you  'aven't.  Did 
she  kiss  yer? 

DICK.     [Sullenly.]    Never  you  mind. 

MRS.  PAR.  Oh,  I  don't  mind.  But  I  got 
eyes,  I  'ave. 

DICK.     Oh !    What  good  'ave  they  done  yer? 

MRS.  PAR.  0,  when  I  see  a  girl  with  'er  face 
all  flushed,  and  'er  'air  all  'anging  down,  and  a 
rose  stuck  over  'er  ear,  and  a  young  man  by  'er 
as  flustered  as  what  you  are — Well — I  can — 

DICK.    What  can  you? 

MRS.  PAR.  Well,  I  know  they  don't  come 
like  that  of  their  own. 

DICK.     [Sullenly.]     Do  you? 

MRS.  PAR.     I  ain't  blaming  yer,  mind. 

DICK.    Aren't  yer? 


66  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

MRS.  PAR.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  young, 
myself.  But  all  the  same — 

DICK.    What? 

MRS.  PAR.    Oh,  nothing. 

DICK.    What  were  you  going  to  say? 

MRS.  PAR.    Nothing. 

DICK.    You  were  going  to  say  something. 

MRS.  PAR.  No,  I  weren't.  Only  it  mid  seem 
strange.  You  see,  your  dad's  so  partikler. 

DICK.     Oh!     'Im. 

MRS.  PAR.  'As  'e  took  you  in  'is  partner 
yet?  Your  dad? 

DICK.    No. 

MRS.  PAR.  No,  I  know  'e  'aven't.  I  could 
tell  yer  something.  A  little  surprise — about 
your  dad. 

DICK.    What's  that? 

MRS.  PAR.  Somethin'  'e  said  to  me.  I  don't 
know  as  I've  a  right  to  tell  yer. 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  67 

DICK.  Abut  my  being  took  in  as  partner  to 
'im? 

MRS.  PAR.  It  was  meant  as  a  secret.  But 
there — since — us  can  'ave  no  secrets,  can  us? 

DICK.    Why,  no — I'm— 

MRS.  PAR.  Well — your  dad  says  to  me, 
"Mrs.  Pargetter"  'e  says,  "I'm  gettin'  to  be  a 
old  man,  I  want  to  see  my  boy  settled.  Now 
then,"  'e  says,  "The  day  my  boy  marries  I  'ave 
'im  bound  my  partner.  And  £20  to  'elp  'im 
furnish." 

DICK.  Good  iron!  A  old  chanti-cleer.  Balm 
in  Gilead,  as  the  saying  is. 

MRS.  PAR.  "Yes,"  I  says,  "And  more  no 
mother  could  ask."  [Change  of  voice.]  That 
girl'd  forsake  'er  'eavenly  crown  for  you,  Dick. 
She's  drooped  like  a  lily  of  the  vale  since  she's 
been  away.  If  you'd  seen  that  girl  as  I  seen 
'er,  you'd  'ave  yourself  arst  this  Sunday.  Or 


68  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

you'll  'ave  'er  goin'  into  a  decline.  'Ave  you 
arst  'er  yet? 

DICK.  Yes.  I  arst  'er  just  now.  Just  this 
minute  ago. 

MRS.  PAR.    When  she  was  at  the  door  'ere? 

DICK.    When  I  come  in. 

MRS.  PAR.  Wot  did  she  say,  I  wonder?  No 
tellin',  I  suppose? 

DICK.  I  thought  as  you'd  seen.  I  mean, 
from  what  you  said. 

MRS.  PAR.    No.    I  never  seed. 

DICK.  From  'er  'avin'  'er  'air  down.  The 
rose  and  that. 

MRS.  PAR.  'Air  down?  She  'adn't  'er  'air 
down.  I  done  it  myself. 

DICK.  Yes,  she  'ad  'er  'air  down.  You 
said — just  now — 

MRS.  PAR.    Jenny  'ad? 

DICK.    No,  Nan. 

MRS.  PAR.    Nan :  wot's  she  got  to  do  with  it? 


Act  //]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  69 

DICK.  I've  just  arst  'er  to  marry  me,  Mrs. 
Pargetter.  And  her  'ave  said  yes.  [A  pause.] 
It'll  be  nice  bein'  a  partner  and  that,  won't  it. 
I'll  be  able  to  'ave  the  trap  of  a  evenin'.  And 
I'll  'ave  money  for — 

MRS.  PAR.  [Grimly.]  You  be  'is  partner! 
You'll  be  your  dad's  partner  if  you  marry 
Jenny — that's  your  dad's  arrangement.  That's 
wot  'e's  planned. 

DICK.    My  dad  'ave  planned — 

MRS.  PAR.  "  'E  shall  marry  as  I  choose,"  'e 
says,  "my  son  shall.  If  'e  don't  know  which 
side  'is  bread  is  buttered,  there's  the  door.  'E 
can  beg." 

DICK.    'E  can  beg! 

MRS.  PAR.  "Not  a  penny  will  'e  ever  'ave 
from  me,"  'e  says.  Now. 

[MRS.  PARGETTER  watches  him.] 

DICK.    So! 


70  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  {Act  11 

MRS.  PAR.  D'you  think  we'd  let  you  throw 
Jenny  over,  after  getting  'er  talked  about? 

DICK.  It  be  different  'avin'  a  kiss  or  two  of 
a  girl  and  wantin'  to  marry  'er. 

[Re-enter  PARGETTER  slowly,  looking  hard 
at  DICK  who  is  very  white.  He  walks  to  the 
dresser,  picks  up  a  corkscrew,  and  walks  slowly 
out,  looking  hard  at  DICK  but  saying  nothing.] 

MRS.  PAR.    Now  then. 

DICK.  [Moistening  his  lips.]  Per'aps  my 
father'll  'ear  me  explain. 

MRS.  PAR.    Wot'll  you  tell  'im? 

DICK.  Tell  'im  as  Jenny  ain't  no  more  to 
me  'n  what  a  pig's  milt  is.  Tell  'im  as  I  love 
Nan.  And  as  I  be  goin'  to  marry  'er. 

MRS.  PAR.  [Slowly  and  grimly.]  You'll  tell 
'im  for  instans,  you'll  tell  your  father,  for  in- 
stans,  as  you're  goin'  to  marry  a  girl  whose  dad 
was  'ung  at  Glorster,  like  the  thief  'e  was.  Just 
afore  last  Christmas. 


Act  m  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  71 

DICK.    Nan's  dad  wos? 

MRS.  PAR.  [Nods  her  head.]  And  'er 
mother  'ad  men  come  to  see  'er.  [A  pause.] 
'Ow'll  yer  tell  that  to  yer  dad? 

DICK.  My  Lord  Almighty!  Daughter  of 
one  of  them! 

MRS.  PAR.    Two  of  them. 

DICK.    My  'oly  Saviour! 

MRS.  PAR.  Your  'art  out  of  your  bosom  like 
a  engine  it  does  go. 

DICK.     I'll  marry  'er  yet  to  spite  yer. 

MRS.  PAR.  Wot'll  yer  marry  'er  on?  You 
ain't  got  a  penny.  She  ain't  got  a  penny.  [A 
pause.]  I  wonder  she  never  told  yer  about  'er 
dad's  being  'ung.  They  'ad  yeomanry  in  front 
of  the  gaol.  Quite  an  affair.  Didn't  she  never 
tell  yer? 

DICK.  No.  'Er  was  going  to.  My!  Oh 
my — 


72  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

MRS.  PAR.  Per'aps  she  waited  till  she  'ooked 
yer.  'Ark  at  'em  in  there! 

[Laughter  inside  and  one  crows  like  a  cock.] 
She  is  artful.  I  never  see  a  deeper  girl  than 
wot  she  is. 

DICK.  Oh,  'old  yer  tongue,  you  old  devil! 
I've  'ad  my  gruel. 

MRS.  PAR.    Come,  come.    Be  a  man. 

DICK.  Mrs.  Pargetter.  I  mean,  I'm — Mrs. 
Pargetter — 

MRS.  PAR.    Yes?    Wot? 

DICK.    I  dunno — I  dunno  wot  to  think. 

MRS.  PAR.    Your  dad'll  know  wot  to  think. 

DICK.    I  dunno !    If  I  'ad  a  little  of  my  own ! 

MRS.  PAR.  Oh,  if  yer  like  to  starve,  starve. 
Walk.  Pad  yer  'oof. 

DICK.  Ah!   A  tramper!   My  'eavenly  King! 

MRS.  PAR.  Lots  on  'em  pass  'ere.  Dirt  on 
'em.  Feet  comin'  through  their  boots.  You 
see  'em  nick  crusts  out  of  the  gutter.  Berries 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  73 

of  a  'edge,  some  on  'em.    Froze  stiff,  some  on 
'em,  under  a  rick.    Lots  on  'em. 

DICK.    Ah!     Don't!     I  can't!     [A  pause.} 

MRS.  PAR.  Well,  Dick?  Wot's  it  to  be?  Is 
it  Jenny? 

DICK.  0  damn  it,  yes,  it's  Jenny,  Jenny. 
Like  'avin'  a  cold  poultice!  Very  well,  it's 
Jenny  then.  Now  I  'ope  yer  satisfied. 

MRS.  PAR.  [Kissing  him.]  There.  /  knew 
yer  wouldn't  act  dishonourable.  I  knowed  you 
better. 

[The  door  opens,  the  men  come  in,  singing 
and  laughing.  ARTIE  PEARCE  crows  like  a  cock. 
The  GIRLS  come  down,  hearing  the  noise.} 
Wot  a  time  you  people  'ave  been. 

MR.  PAR.  Wot  'a  you  been  doin'  all  the 
time? 

ARTIE.     [Singing.] 

Making  love  in  the  evenin' 
Making  love  in  the  evenin' 


74  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

A  drop  of  zider  sets  one  up  like  {wiping  his 
mouth.'] 

MRS.  PAR.  [To  PARGETTER.]  You'll  'ear 
later.  All  in  good  time.  'Ere  Jenny,  'elp  me 
with  these  chairs!  I've  watched  it  all  right. 
Dick  and  you  I  mean.  It's  settled. 

JENNY.  [With  a  chair.]  Give  I  that  one, 
Mother.  0  Mother,  wot  fun  us  shall  'ave. 

MR.  PAR.    Now  us  be  goin'  to  'ave  a  dance. 

A  GIRL.  Be  you  a-goin'  to  dance,  Mr.  Par- 
getter? 

MR.  PAR.  Course  I  be.  Come,  gaffer.  Out 
with  that  fiddle  o'  yourn. 

A  GIRL.    I  do  love  a  fiddle. 

JENNY.    A  barrel  hargin  be  good,  too. 

MR.  PAR.  Now,  gaffer.  Now,  no  long  faces, 
anybody.  Us  be  goin'  to  'ave  great  tunes,  ben't 
us? 

NAN.    Wait  till  I  set  thy  chair  right,  gaffer. 

GAFFER.     [Querulously.]     On  the  roads,  I 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  75 

seen  you.  Surely.  And  it  was  all — all  a- 
blowing? 

NAN.    Sit  'ere,  now.    And  'ave  this  cushion. 

ARTIE.  Don't  let  granfer  fall  into  the  fire. 
'E  will,  if  you  don't  watch  it. 

GAFFER.  [Bowing  in  the  old  style.}  Beauty 
makes  women  be  proud.  There  be  few  beau- 
ties 'as  the  'umbleness  to  'elp  a  old  man.  Ah, 
there  be  no  pleasure  for  the  old  but  to  'muse 
the  young.  I  be  a  old  man.  A  old,  old  man! 

NAN.  The  old  be  wise,  gaffer.  The  old  'ave 
peace,  after  their  walking  the  world. 

MRS.  PAR.    Stuff!     [A  giggle.] 

GAFFER.  There  be  no  peace  to  'im  as  sees 
you,  goin'  by  in  beauty,  puttin'  fire  to  'em. 

GIRLS.    Us  be  waitin'.    Us  be  all  ready ! 

MR.  PAR.    Take  your — 

GAFFER.  [To  NAN.]  What  tune  will  the 
bride  'ave?  A  ring  of  bells  and  the  maids  fling- 
ing flowers  at  'er.  Like  me  and  my  girl  'ad. 


76  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

[Pause.]  I  'ad  a  flower  of  'er  to  go  to  church 
with.  [Pause.]  They  put  my  flower  under  the 
mould  after.  [Pause.]  I  'card  the  mould  go 
knock!  [He  tunes  his  fiddle  as  he  speaks.]  No 
one  remembers  my  white  flower.  [Pause.] 
That's  sixty  year  ago. 

NAN.  You'll  meet  her  again,  gaffer.  Per'aps 
she's  by  you  now. 

GAFFER.  [With  a  lifting  voice — half  rising.] 
So  you've  a  come,  my  'andsome — 

MRS.  PAR.  'Ere.  [She  taps  GAFFER'S  hand.] 
Play!  'Ere!  Fiddle.  [To  NAN.]  Don't  you 
see  you're  upsettin'  'im.  Move  away.  One'd 
think  you'd  no  feelings. 

MR.  PAR.    Take  your  partners. 

MRS.  PAR.  Now,  'ave  you  all  got  your  part- 
ners? 

ALL.  No.  Don't  be  so  silly,  Artie.  Now, 
do  be  quiet.  'Ow  are  us  to  dance!  [Etc.,  etc.] 
You  come  over  'ere,  by  me. 


Act  11}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  77 

[NAN  stands  a  little  apart,  looking  at  DICK, 
waiting  on  him.] 

MRS.  PAR.  Now,  now,  we're  all  'ere.  'Ush 
a  moment.  Afore  we  begin  there's  a  little  bit 
o'  noos  just  'appened,  as  I'd  like  to  say  about. 

ARTIE.    'Ear!    'Ear! 

MR.  PAR.  [To  ARTIE.]  You  be  quiet!  [He 
grins  at  ARTIE  approvingly.] 

MRS.  PAR.  As  I'm  sure  '11  come  as  a  great 
surprise.  Really,  it  quite  took  my  breath 
away!  It  did,  really.  Now,  I  mustn't  stop  you 
young  people  dancing.  But  I  must  just  tell 
you  this  little  bit  of  noos.  He,  he!  Why — 

ARTIE.    We  ain't  lookin'. 

A  GIRL.     Be  quiet,  Artie. 

MRS.  PAR.  Jenny  and  Dick  'ere  'ave  made  a 
match  of  it.  I  'ope  the  present  company'll 
wish  the  'appy  couple  joy!  Dick!  Jenny! 
Give  me  your  'ands.  There.  [She  clasps 
them.]  I  'ope  you'll  be  very  'appy  together. 


78  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  II 

Dick  [kissing  him]  you're  my  son  now,  ain't 
yer? 

ARTIE.     Spare  'is  blushes,  Mother. 

ALL.  Why,  who'd  ever  a- thought  it!  I  do 
'ope  you'll  be  'appy.  'Ow  sudden !  Quite  took 
my  breath  away!  Jenny,  come  'ere,  and  let  I 
kiss  'ee.  I  s'pose  us  can't  kiss  you,  Mr.  Dick? 
No,  Mr.  Dick'll  be  quite  the  married  man.  'E 
looks  it  already. 

NAN.  Dick,  Dick,  oh,  Dick!  What,  oh, 
Dick,  you  weren't  playing,  Dick? 

DICK.     Don't  Dick  me.    Get  out! 

MRS.  PAR.    Wot  are  yer  bothering  Dick  for? 

NAN.  I  thought  'e'd  something — something 
to  say  to  me. 

DICK.  You  thought  I  was  a  oly  scrawf, 
didn't  yer? 

NAN.  I  thought  I  was  a  'appy  woman,  Dick. 
[She  looks  at  him  and  goes  slowly  over  to  a 
chair.  As  she  goes.] 


Act  II]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  79 

MR.  PAR.  Now,  Nan.  What  are  you  waitin' 
for?  Take  your  place  'ere  and  dance,  now. 

MRS.  PAR.    Per'aps  Nan  is  like  'er  father. 

JENNY.  [Sliding  her  feet  about.]  'Ow's 
that,  Mother? 

MRS.  PAR.  Per'aps  she  can  only  dance  on 
air. 

NAN.  [Going  to  her.]  Yes,  yes,  I  am  like 
my  father.  You  coward  to  say  that. 

MR.  PAR.  Wot  are  you  thinking  of,  with 
company  present? 

MRS.  PAR.  You  leave  her  to  me.  I'll  deal 
with  her.  [To  the  company.]  She  thought  if 
she  'ad  'er  'air  down  an'  'er  neck  un'ooked  as  she 
might  'ave  a  go  in  at  Dick,  'ere. 

TOMMY.  'Ope  us  didn't  come  too  soon, 
Dick. 

JENNY.  She  believes  in  giving  all  for  love, 
Cousin  Nan  do. 

MRS.  PAR.    She'll  give  no  more  in  this  house. 


80  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  11 

Why,  'er  dad  was  'ung  for  a  thief  only  last 
Christmas. 

MR.  PAR.  Now,  Mother,  that's — No,  she  de- 
serves it.  She  ain't  been  straight. 

ALL.    Ah. 

NAN.  Yes.  I'd  like  you  all  to  know  that. 
My  dad  was  'ung  at  Glorster.  I'd  oughtn't  to 
a  shook  your  'ands  without  I'd  told  you.  I 
tried  'ard  to  tell  you,  Dick.  Dick.  Dick.  I 
give  you  all  I  had.  You  'ad  me.  Like  I  never 
was.  Not  to  any.  O  Dick,  I  'ope  you'll  be 
very,  very  'appy. 

DICK.  'Ere.  Go  and  say  your  piece  to  Gaf- 
fer there.  'E  'asn't  many  pleasures,  I've  done 
with  yer.  'Ere,  Jenny,  you  be  goin'  to  dance 
with  I. 

JENNY.  [Giggling.]  I  think  I  could  'elp, 
Dick  Gurvil. 

DICK.    'Elp  me  then.    Come  on. 

JENNY.    Law.    It  make  my  heart  all  of  a 


Act  in  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  81 

flower.    That's  wot  Cousin  Nan  says.    I  s'pose 
it  must  be  very  clever  if  'er  says  it. 

NAN.  I  wish — I  wish  the  grass  was  over  my 
'ed. 

DICK.    'Ere.    Us  wish  to  dance. 

[NAN  goes  aside.] 

GAFFER.  A  bride's  tears  be  zoon  a-dried. 
But  love  be  a  zweet  viewer.  A  girt  red  vlower. 
Her  do  last  for  ever.  For  ever.  [He  plays 
"Joan  to  the  Maypole."]  Like  me  and  my  girl, 
for  ever! 

[They  dance.] 

CURTAIN 


ACT  III 

Scene: — The  Same.  NAN  at  table  at  back. 
A  noise  within.  GAFFER  in  his  chair. 

NAN.  Life  be  that  bitter.  0  dad,  life  be 
that  bitter. 

GAFFER.  You  be  young  to  'ave  life  bitter 
on  you. 

NAN.     It  isn't  time  makes  us  old. 

GAFFER.  Some  on  us  is  glad  to  go  away. 
Quite  early. 

NAN.  I  wish  I  could  go  away.  I  wish  I 
could  go  away. 

GAFFER.     Us'll  be  took  away,  afore  long. 

NAN.    I'd  like  to  be  took  away  now. 

GAFFER.  I've  a-wanted  to  be  took  away 
ever  since  my  viewer  were  took.  Many  a  long 

82 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  83 

year.  And  I  grawed  to  be  a  old,  old  man.  I 
were  out  of  work  sometimes.  And  I  be  old  now. 
Very  old. 

NAN.     Per'aps  you'll  join  'er  soon,  gaffer. 

GAFFER.  Noa.  Not  for  a  girt  while.  I  'ave 
'er  little  grave.  I  'ave  'er  little  grave  to  see  to. 
With  viewers  and  that.  If  I  'ad  girt  bags  of 
gold  like  Squire,  I  could  'ave  a  'edstone  put. 
I'd  'ave  'er  little  grave  all  carved.  I'd  'ave 
posies  cut.  And  'er  face  down  on  the  stone. 
All  in  white  I'd  'ave  my  viewer  cut.  White 
stone.  There  be  no  kings  'd  Ve  whiter.  But  I 
can't  never  avord  a  'edstone.  So  I  ben't  goin' 
to  die.  Noa.  I  ben't  goin'  to  die. 

NAN.  When  love  be  dead,  gaffer,  what  be 
there  else? 

GAFFER.  There  be  the  grave.  It  be  all  the 
poor  'as,  just  the  grave.  And  I  got  my  viewer's 
grave.  Eight  maids  in  white  there  was.  No 
older  than  my  viewer  they  was.  And  there 


84  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

were  all  white  viewers  on  'er.  Eight  maids  in 
white,  maidy.  And  the  bell  tolling.  Oh,  my 
white  blossom  to  go  under  the  grass. 

NAN.  She  was  very  young  to  be  took, 
Gaffer. 

GAFFER.  They  was  eight  maids  in  white 
when  they  carried  'er.  Then  they  was  women. 
Beautiful  they  were.  Then  they  grew  old. 
One  by  one.  And  then  their  'ouses  were  to  let, 
with  the  windows  broke.  And  grass  and  grass. 
They  be  all  gone.  When  I  be  gone  there'll  be 
none  to  tell  the  beauty  of  my  vlower.  There'll 
be  none  as  knows  where  'er  body  lies.  I  'ave 
'er  little  grave  all  done  with  shells.  And  the 
vlowers  that  do  come  up,  they  be  little  words 
from  'er.  Little  zhining  words.  Fifty-nine 
year  them  little  words  come. 

NAN.  I  got  a  grave,  too,  gaffer.  And  I  'ave 
fifty-nine  years  to  come. 


Act  III!  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  85 

GAFFER.  My  bright  'ansome.  Oo  'ave  you 
in  yer  grave? 

NAN.  I  'ave  my  'eart  in  the  grave,  gaffer. 
But  there'll  be  no  vlowers  come  up  out  of  'er. 
I  shall  be  'ere  fifty-nine  year  per'aps.  Like  you 
been.  Fifty-nine  year.  Twelve  times  fifty- 
nine  is — and  four  times  that.  Three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days  in  a  year.  Up,  and  work, 
and  lie  down  again.  But  dead,  dead,  dead.  All 
the  time  dead.  No.  No.  Not  that.  Gaffer. 
How  did  thy  viewer  die? 

GAFFER.  There  come  a  gold  rider  in  the  eve- 
ning, maidy. 

NAN.    You  was  by  'er,  Gaffer? 

GAFFER.  She  look  out  of  the  window,  my 
white  viewer  done.  She  said,  "The  tide.  The 
tide.  The  tide  coming  up  the  river."  And  a 
horn  blew.  The  gold  rider  blew  a  'orn.  And 
she  rose  up,  my  white  vlower  done.  And  she 
burst  out  a-laughing,  a-laughing.  And  'er  fell 


86  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

back,  my  white  viewer  done.  Gold  'air  on  the 
pillow.  And  blood.  Oh,  blood.  Blood  of  my 
girl.  Blood  of  my  viewer. 

NAN.     In  your  arms,  gaffer? 

GAFFER.  On  my  'eart.  My  white  viewer  lay 
on  my  'eart.  The  tide.  The  tide.  The  tide 
coming  up  the  river. 

NAN.  She  was  'appy  to  die  so,  gaffer. 
Along  of  'er  true  love.  You  'ad  the  sweet  of 
love  along  of  your  vlower.  But  them  as  'as  the 
sharp  of  love.  Them  as  never  'as  no  sweet. 

0  I  wish  the  tide  was  comin'  up  over  my  'ed, 

1  do. 

GAFFER.     It  be  full  moon  to-night,  maidy. 
NAN.    Full  moon.    It  come  up  misty.    And 
red. 

GAFFER.    It  was  red  on  the  pillow.    Then. 
NAN.    The  harvest-moon. 
GAFFER.    There'll  be  a  high  tide  to-night. 
NAN.    A  high  tide. 


Act  111}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  87 

GAFFER.    For  some  on  us. 

NAN.    Why  for  some  on  us,  gaffer? 

GAFFER.    The  tide  be  comin'  for  some  on  us. 

NAN.    For  you,  gaffer? 

GAFFER.  Ther've  come  no  message  yet  for 
me.  But  the  tide  be  a-comin'  for  some  on  us. 
It  'ave  someone  every  time.  It  'ad  my  vlower 
one  time.  0  it  be  a  gallows  thing,  the  tide. 
First  there  be  the  mud  and  that.  Sand  banks. 
Mud  banks.  And  the  'erons  fishing.  Sand  in 
the  river,  afore  the  tide  comes.  Mud.  The 
cows  come  out  o'  pasture  to  drink.  They  come 
on  the  sand.  Red  cows.  But  they  be  afraid 
of  the  tide. 

NAN.  They  'aven't  no  grief,  the  beasts  asn't. 
Cropping  in  the  meadows  when  the  sun  do 
zhine. 

GAFFER.  They  be  afraid  of  the  tide.  For 
first  there  come  a-wammerin'  and  a-wammer- 
in'. Miles  away  that  wammerin'  be.  In  the 


88  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

sea.  The  shipmen  do  cross  theirselves.  And  it 
come  up.  It  come  nearer.  Wammerin'!  Wam- 
merin'!  'Ush  it  says.  'Ush  it  says.  'Ush  it 
says.  And  there  come  a  girt  wash  of  it  over 
the  rock.  White.  White.  Like  a  bird.  Like 
a  swan  a-gettin'  up  out  of  the  pool. 

NAN.  Bright  it  goes.  High.  High  up. 
Flashing. 

GAFFER.  And  it  wammers  and  it  bubbles. 
And  then  it  spreads.  It  goes  out  like  soldiers. 
It  go  out  into  a  line.  It  curls.  It  curls.  It  go 
toppling  and  toppling.  And  on  it  come.  And 
on  it  come. 

NAN.    Fast.    Fast. 

A    black    line.     And    the    foam    all 
creamin'  on  it. 

GAFFER.  It  be  a  snake.  A  snake.  A  girt 
water  snake  with  its  'ed  up.  Swimming.  On 
it  come. 

NAN.    A  bright  crown  upon  it.    And  hungry. 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  89 

GAFFER.  With  a  rush.  With  a  roar.  And 
its  claws  clutchin'  at  you.  Out  they  go  at  the 
sides,  the  claws  do. 

NAN.    The  claws  of  the  tide. 

GAFFER.  Singing.  Singing.  And  the  sea 
a-roaring  after.  O,  it  takes  them.  They  stand 
out  in  the  river.  And  it  goes  over  them.  Over 
them.  Over  them.  One  roarin'  rush. 

NAN.  Deep.  Deep.  Water  in  their  eyes. 
Over  their  hair.  And  to-night  it  be  the  harvest 
tide. 

GAFFER.  [As  though  waking  from  a  dream.] 
The  salmon-fishers  '11  lose  their  nets  to-night. 
The  tide'll  sweep  them  away.  0, 
I've  known  it.  It  takes  the  nets  up  miles. 
Miles.  They  find  'em  high  up.  Beyond  Glor- 
ster.  Beyond  'Artpury.  Girt  golden  flag- 
flowers  over  'em.  And  apple-trees  a-growin' 
over  'em.  Apples  of  red  and  apples  of  gold. 
They  fall  into  the  water.  The  water  be  still 


90  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

there,  where  the  apples  fall.  The  nets  'ave 
apples  in  them. 

NAN.    And  fish,  gaffer? 

GAFFER.  Strange  fish.  Strange  fish  out  of 
the  sea. 

NAN.  Yes.  Strange  fish  indeed,  gaffer.  A 
strange  fish  in  the  nets  to-morrow.  A  dumb 
thing.  Knocking  agen  the  bridges.  Something 
white.  Something  white  in  the  water.  They'd 
pull  me  out.  Men  would.  They'd  touch  my 
body.  [Shuddering.]  I  couldn't.  I  couldn't. 

[Loud  laughter  from  within,  and  a  clatter  of 
knives.  The  door  opens.  Enter  JENNY  from 
inner  room,  carrying  a  dirty  plate,  with  dirty 
knife  and  fork.  As  JENNY  comes  in,  MRS.  PAR- 
GETTER  is  heard  off.] 

MRS.  PAR.    Is  she  in  there? 

JENNY.    Yes. 

MRS.  P.    Tell  'er  to  come  in. 


Act  III]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  91 

JENNY.  [To  NAN.]  You're  to  go  in, 
mother  says. 

PAR.  [Heard  off.]  'Ere,  shut  that  door  be- 
hind yer.  It  blows  my  'ed  off.  [JENNY  turns 
and  shuts  the  door.] 

NAN.    What  'ave  you  got  there,  Jenny? 

JENNY.  [Uneasily.)  You're  to  go  in, 
mother  says. 

NAN.  [Rising.]  Never  mind  what  mother 
says.  Answer  my  question,  my  friend,  my  girt 
friend,  my  little  creeping  friend.  What  'ave 
you  got  there? 

JENNY.  [Shrinking.]  A  mutton  parsty  pie 
for  gaffer,  as  mother  sent.  It'll  be  a  little  treat 
for  'im. 

NAN.  [Looking.]  Whose  plate  have  you 
brought  it  on,  my  little  friend? 

JENNY.     [Stammering.]    Mother's  plate. 

NAN.  It  is  a  dirty  plate.  And  the  knives 
and  forks  are  dirty. 


92  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

JENNY.  [Confidently.]  Gaffer  won't  know 
any  different.  It's  good  enough  for  an  old  man 
like  'im.  'Ere,  gaffer.  'Ere's  some  supper  for 
yer. 

NAN.  [Going  up  to  her.]  No,  my  friend, 
my  girt  friend,  my  little  Judas  friend,  my  little 
pale  snake  friend.  It's  not  good  enough.  Did 
you  'ave  one  of  them  pies? 

JENNY.  [Blustering.]  You  can — I  ain't 
goin'  to — 

NAN.  Did  you?  The  sheep  died.  The 
sheep  died  last  week.  Did  you  eat  one  of  them 
pies? 

JENNY.  No,  I  know  what  the  sheep  die  of. 
Gaffer  won't  mind.  'Ere,  gaffer. 

NAN.  [Fiercely.]  Sit  down,  my  little 
friend.  Sit  down  and  eat  that  pie  yourself. 
Eat  it.  Eat  it  or  I'll  kill  you.  Eat  it.  You 
with  no  charity  to  old  or  young.  You  shall  eat 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  93 

the  charity  of  the  uncharitable.  Eat  it.  You 
little  snake.  Eat  it. 

JENNY.    I'll — I'll  send  mother  to  you. 

NAN.  [Preventing  her.]  No.  Oh,  no. 
[Forcing  her  into  a  chair.]  Eat.  Eat. 
(JENNY  in  great  terror  begins  to  eat.] 

JENNY.    I  be  goin'  to  be  sick. 

NAN.  Eat.  (JENNY  eats.  Then  shrinks 
back.] 

JENNY.  [After  a  mouthful.]  Wot  are  you 
lookin'  at  me  for? 

NAN.     I'm  looking  at  my  friend.    My  friend. 

JENNY.  [After  a  mouthful.]  I  can't  eat 
with  you  watchin'  me. 

NAN.  Yes,  Jenny.  It  is  your  bride  cake. 
Your  bride  cake.  Your  bride  cake  for  your 
marriage,  Jenny. 

JENNY.  [Screaming.]  Don't  look  at  me 
like  that. 

NAN.     [Coming  up  to  her  and  glaring  down 


94  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  111 

into  her  face.]  Yes,  Jenny.  I  must  look  at  you 
like  this.  I  must  look  into  your  soul,  Jenny. 
Into  your  soul.  [Slowly  and  quietly.] 

JENNY.    Ah-h. 

NAN.  You  'ave  pale  eyes,  Jenny.  Pale  eyes. 
I  can  look  into  your  soul.  D'you  know  what  I 
see,  Jenny?  [A  pause.]  I  see  your  soul.  It  is 
cold,  Jenny.  It's  a  little  mean  cold,  lying  thing. 
You're  a  lucky  one,  Jenny.  You  cannot  love 
nor  hate.  A  dog  loves  more  and  hates  more. 
A  worm  do.  D'you  know  what  comes  to  such 
souls,  Jenny? 

JENNY.     [Gasping.]     Mother!    Mother! 

NAN.  I'll  tell  you,  Jenny.  I'll  tell  your  fu- 
ture to  you.  I  see  your  life  very  plain  in  your 
pale  eyes.  I  see  a  girt  town,  with  lamps.  And 
I  see  you  in  a  public  'ouse,  Jenny,  with  red  on 
your  white  cheeks.  And  your  pale  eyes  are 
swollen  with  drink.  And  you've  a  raggy  skirt. 
And  you  cough.  And  you  tremble.  That  is  the 


Act  III}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  95 

pay  in  this  world,  Jenny,  for  a  little  cold  mean 
lying  thing.  And  I  see  a  dirty  room  with  a 
dirty  bed,  and  you  lying  dead  on  it.  Your 
painted  cheeks  on  the  pillow.  Till  the  town 
dead-cart  come.  Out  with  you.  Out  with  you. 
Out  with  you.  [JENNY  totters,  gasping,  to  the 
door.] 

JENNY.  Ah.  Ah-h !  [She  leans  up  against 
the  door,  holding  it  by  the  latch,  in  terror;  she 
is  only  half  conscious.} 

GAFFER.  [Rousing  and  shading  his  eyes, 
looking  up.]  Be  you  ready  for  your  journey, 
maidy? 

NAN.    My  journey. 

GAFFER.  You  must  eat  and  drink,  my  'and- 
some.  'E  be  coming. 

NAN.    Who  be  coming? 

GAFFER.  The  gold  rider,  maidy.  'E  be 
comin'  on  the  road. 

NAN.    The  gold  rider.     We  will  eat  and 


96  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  111 

drink,  gaffer.  It  be  a  long  road  to  go.  [She 
opens  oven  and  brings  out  the  apple-pasty; 
then  takes  a  carving  knife,  and  plate.  Then  the 
brandy  bottle.  She  cuts  the  pasty  and  gives 
food  to  GAFFER.] 

GAFFER.  [Rising  unsteadily  and  holding  up 
his  hands.]  Bless  this  food  to  thy  service. 
Bless  the  Giver  of  all  good  things.  Amen.  [He 
eats.] 

NAN.  Amen.  [The  outer  door  is  knocked. 
Footsteps  outside.]  Drink,  gaffer.  [She  gives 
him  a  sup  of  brandy.] 

GAFFER.  [Drinking  to  her.]  A  fair  journey. 
Vlowers  on  the  road  afore  you.  0  gold  'oofs. 
Gold  'oofs.  Be  swift.  Swift.  [A  knocking  at 
outer  door.] 

A  VOICE.    Is  anyone  inside  there?    Open. 

NAN.  Drink,  gaffer.  [Violent  knocking  out- 
side. The  inner  door  is  shaken  by  those  within. 


Act  III]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  97 

JENNY  holds  the  latch  and  keeps  them  from 
entering.] 

JENNY.  0!  0!  Don't  let  'er  in  on  me.  Don't 
let  'er  in  on  me.  [Falling  against  the  wall.] 
Oh,  oh. 

[Enter  the  PARGETTERS  and  DICK.  The 
others  cluster  at  the  doorway.'] 

DICK.  [Seeing  JENNY  and  glad  to  have  NAN 
for  once  in  the  wrong.  Angrily.]  Wot  'ave  you 
been  doin'  to  'er?  Eh? 

MRS.  PAR.  [Advancing  on  NAN.]  Why 
can't  you  open  the  door?  Standing  staring 
there. 

PAR.    Wot  'ave  she  done  to  you,  Jenny? 

MRS.  PAR.  [Turning.]  Never  you  'eed  wot 
she's  done  to  'er.  You  go  and  open  the  door. 
'Ere,  Jenny.  Go  on  inside.  Go  on  now.  Be- 
fore they  see  yer. 

DICK.  She's — she's — Best  'ave  'er  locked  up, 
mother. 


98  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

MRS.  PAR.    Open  the  door,  there. 

[JENNY  totters  out.] 

MR.  PAR.    Wot's  brought  'er  into  that  state? 

NAN.  She  has  seen  herself,  uncle.  There's 
few  can  bear  that  sight.  A  worm  in  the  dust 
fears  it. 

MRS.  P.  You  don't  mean  to  say  as  you've 
cut  the  parsty. 

PAR.     'Ush.    They'U  'ear  yer. 

MRS.  P.  [In  a  blood-curdling  voice.]  And 
look  at  your  uncle's  bottle.  If  I  don't  give  it 
yer  for  this.  [A  knock.] 

A  VOICE  WITHOUT.  Come  on.  Come  on. 
I've  got  no  time  to  waste. 

MRS.  P.  [Going  to  the  door  with  her  best 
society  smile.]  I  didn't  'ear  yer  knock.  Wot 
with  comp'ny.  I  'ope  I  'aven't  kep  you  waitin', 
I'm  sure.  [Peering  at  visitors.]  Good  evenin', 
sir.  Will,  fetch  chairs  for  the  gentlemen.  Why, 


Act  im  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  99 

it's  Mr.  Drew.  Come  in,  sir.  Won't  you  please 
ter  come  in,  sir. 

DREW.    Thank  you. 

[Enter  PARSON  DREW,  CAPTAIN  DIXON  and 
a  CONSTABLE  carrying  a  handbag.] 

PAR.     [Fetching  chairs.]     Good  evenin',  sir. 

DREW.    Good  evenin',  Pargetter. 

PAR.     [To  DIXON.]    Good  evenin',  sir. 

DIXON.  [Coldly  to  CONSTABLE.]  Put  that 
bag  on  the  table. 

DREW.  Well,  Dick.  Is  that  you,  EUen? 
You  grow  so  fast.  Nan.  Yes.  Yes.  Good  eve- 
ning, everybody. 

PAR.  [In  a  stage  whisper  to  MRS.  PARGET- 
TER.] 'Ave  the  table  cleared. 

DIXON.     [Irritably.]    Never  mind  the  table. 

MRS.  PAR.  You  must  excuse  things  bein'  a 
bit  untidy,  sir.  Wot  with  'avin'  company,  we're 
all  topsy  turvy,  as  you  mid  say.  [Suavely  to 


100  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

NAN.]  Jest  take  that  parsty  off  the  table,  Nan, 
there's  a  good  girl. 

NAN.  I've  done  with  make-believes,  Aunt. 
One  makes  believe  too  long. 

MRS.  P.  [To  DREW.]  She  loves  a  bit  of 
play-actin',  sir.  She  do  it  wonderful,  consid- 
erin'. 

DIXON.     Oh,  Drew.     Drew.     [Irritably.] 

MRS.  P.  She's  been  givin'  us  a  bit  out  of 
Shakespeare  as  they  call  it. 

DREW.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Now  hush,  please, 
a  moment  everybody.  [EVERYBODY  is  silent.] 
[Raising  a  hand.]  I'm  afraid  we  come  at  a 
very  inconvenient  time.  But — [Seeing  those 
in  the  door.]  Oh,  just  come  in  there,  will  you? 
Yes.  Yes.  It's  a  very  pleasant  duty.  It's  not 
often  that  I  have  such  a  pleasure  as  I  have  to- 
night. [Taking  chair.]  Yes.  Thank  you. 
Sit  down,  Mr.  Dixon. 

DIXON.     [Coldly.]     Captain  Dixon. 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  101 

DREW.  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure.  Captain  Dixon, 
to  be  sure.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Captain  Dixon. 
I'm  sure  you'll  all  be  very  glad  when  you  hear 
what  it  is  that  makes  us  interrupt  your  eve- 
ning's pleasure. 

DIXON.  [Tartly.]  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Drew. 
But  hadn't  we  better  come  to  business? 

DREW.    Yes,  yes,  but — 

DIXON.  [Mildly.]  I  shall  miss  the  coach 
back  to  town. 

DREW.  0,  no,  no,  no,  no.  O,  no,  no,  no.  Oh, 
you've  ten  minutes  yet.  More.  You've  got 
lots  of  time.  You'll  hear  the  horn  long  before 
the  coach  is  due. 

MRS.  P.  Yes,  sir.  You'll  'ear  the  horn  a 
long  ways  off.  If  it's  the  coach  you  want. 

GAFFER.  The  horn.  The  horn.  Gold  hoofs 
beating  on  the  road.  [He  advances  to  the 
table.]  They  beat  like  the  ticking  of  a  'eart. 
Soon.  Very  soon.  The  golden  trump. 


102  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

MRS.  P.  [Angrily.]  Could  ever  anything! 
[Quietly.]  You  old  stupe.  Take  'im  out,  Will. 
Don't  let  'im  begin  in  'ere.  [To  Dixon.]  Don't 
mind  'im,  sir.  'E's  silly. 

[GAFFER  goes  to  the  door  and  looks  out  into 
the  moonlight.] 

GAFFER.  [At  the  door.]  Maybe  I'll  meet 
'im  on  the  road. 

[He  goes  out.] 

DREW.  One  of  our — You  know,  eh.  [Taps 
his  forehead.] 

DIXON.  [Sourly.]  I  thought  it  was  an- 
other bit  out  of  Shakespeare  as  they  call  it. 

PAR.  Yes,  sir.  'E  talks  very  strange  some- 
times. 

DREW.    Yes,  yes,  poor  fellow. 

DIXON.    I  suppose  this  is  the  right  house? 

DREW.  Yes,  of  course.  Yes,  certainly,  cer- 
tainly. 

DIXON.     [Taking  bag  and  unlocking  it.]     I 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  103 

thought  it  might  be  the — the — Yes.  Ye-es. 
Very  well,  then.  [Suddenly.]  Which  of  you  is 
Nan  Hardwick? 

NAN.    I  am  that  one. 

DIXON.  Ye-es.  You.  Very  well  then.  Is 
that  correct,  Mr.  Drew? 

DREW.    Certainly.    Certainly. 

DIXON.  Daughter  of  Mary  Hardwick,  and 
of — of  Edward  Hardwick  who  was — eh? 

NAN.    Who  was  hanged  at  Gloucester. 

DIXON.  Of  Swanscombe,  in  the  Hundred  of 
— Yes.  Very  well  then.  [Turning  to  others.] 
You  certify  that  this  is  that  Nan  Hardwick? 

THE  OTHERS.    Yes,  sir.    That  be  'er. 

DIXON.  Very  well,  then.  That's  not  the 
horn,  Drew? 

DREW.    0,  no,  no. 

DIXON.  [Taking  bag  and  papers  out  of 
handbag.]  Have  you  a  pen  and  ink  in  the 
house? 


104  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

PAR.  [Taking  them  from  the  dresser.]  This 
is  a  pen  and  ink,  sir. 

DIXON.  Ye-es.  [Writes.]  This  pen's — 
Drew,  have  you  got  a  pen?  [To  MRS.  PAR.] 
Give  me  a  penwiper.  [He  wipes,  and  then 
mends  pen  with  a  penknife.]  Ye-es,  Ye-es. 
[Sharply.]  Nan  Hardwick,  your  father  was — 
er — put  to  death  for  stealing  a  sheep  near  Aston 
Magna.  No.  Don't  answer.  That  is  the  fact. 
Ye-es.  Very  well  then.  The  sheep  was  the 
property  of  Mr.  Nicols.  Now  it  has  been  proved 
that  your  father,  Edward  Hardwick,  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  that  sheep. 

NAN.  And  you  come  here,  do  you,  to  tell 
me  that?  You  have  a  thousand  men  beneath 
you,  a  thousand  strong  men  like  the  man  there. 
And  you  have  judges  in  scarlet,  and  lawyers  in 
wigs.  And  a  little  child  out  of  the  road  could 
have  told  you  that  my  dad  was  innocent.  A 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  105 

little  child  of  the  road.  By  once  looking  in  his 
eyes. 

DIXON.  I  can't  go  into  all  that.  You  must 
keep  to  the  point.  [DREW  whispers.}  What? 
Yes.  Yes.  I  daresay. 

DREW.  [To  NAN.]  Let  Captain  Dixon  fin- 
ish what  he's  got  to  say. 

MRS.  P.  Where's  yer  manners  gorn?  You 
wait  till  afterwards. 

DIXON.  To  continue.  The  sheep  was  stolen 
by  Mr.  Nicol's  shepherd,  who  was  the  chief  wit- 
ness against  your  father. 

NAN.  The  sheep  was  stolen  by  Richard 
Shapland. 

DIXON.  {Staring  at  her.}  Who  has  since 
confessed. 

ALL.  Ah.  Confessed.  Think  of  that.  There 
now. 

DIXON.  A  sad  miscarriage  of  justice.  Very 
well  then.  While  we  support  the  laws,  we  must 


106  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  111 

be  content  to  suffer  from  their  occasional  misap- 
plication.   {Glances  at  his  watch.} 

DREW.    Lots  of  time.    Lots  of  time. 

DIXON.  Ye-es.  But  in  this  instance,  the 
Home  Office  has  decided  to  offer  you  some 
compensation. 

NAN.  Some  blood-money.  Thirty  pieces  of 
silver. 

DIXON.  No.  It's  more.  It's  fifty  pounds. 
[He  empties  bag.]  Will  you  count  it  over 
please,  before  signing  the  receipt? 

NAN.  No.  No.  The  blood  and  tears  are 
sticky  on  it. 

DREW.    She's  upset.    I'll  count  it. 

PAR.  [Pouring  brandy  for  NAN.]  'Ere, 
Nan.  'Ave  just  a  drop. 

[She  refuses.] 

OTHERS.  Fifty  pou-und.  Fifty  pou-und. 
Did  you  ever. 


Act  Iin  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  107 

DICK.  [Muttering.}  A  'orse  and  trap. 
And  furnish  a  'ouse. 

DREW.  Fifty.  Would  you  like  to  count  it 
over,  Pargetter? 

PAR.    No,  thanky,  sir,  I'm  sure. 

DIXON.  [To  NAN.]  Are  you  satisfied? 
[Sharply.]  Nan  Hardwick. 

NAN.    What  d'you  want  more? 

DIXON.  Are  you  satisfied  that  the  sum  is 
correct? 

NAN.  Oh.  The  money.  You  know  it  is. 
Why  go  to  all  this  trouble?  Give  me  your  pen. 
There.  There's  my  name  to  your  paper.  Re- 
ceived. By  me.  Fifty  pounds  in  gold. 

DIXON.  And  the  date.  Ye-es.  I'll  just  add 
the  date.  [To  the  CONSTABLE.]  Witness  it, 
Horton.  [The  man  signs.  He  looks  at  his 
watch  again.}  I  shall  miss  that  coach. 

DREW.    Won't  you  think  better  of  it,  and 


108  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  111 

stay  the  night?  Stay,  man,  stay  and  see  the 
tide.  It's  a  wonderful  sight. 

DIXON.  No,  thanks.  No,  thanks.  [He 
gathers  up  his  handbag.}  Here  you  are,  Hor- 
ton.  [Gives  him  bag}  I  hope  the  money  may 
be  a  comfort  to  you.  [To  NAN.]  Where  can 
I  catch  this  coach? 

MRS.  P.  Just  down  the  lane,  sir.  It  is  but 
a  step.  Keep  on  right  down,  sir.  You  can't  miss 
it,  sir. 

PAR.    You'll  'ear  the  'arn  go,  sir. 

DIXON  AND  HORTON.    Good  night.    [Going.] 

ALL.     Good  night,  sir.    Good  night,  Officer. 

DICK.  [To  PARGETTER.]  Wouldn't  'e  take 
a  drop  of  somethin'? 

PAR.  Noa.  It's  not  for  the  likes  of  us  to 
offer. 

DICK.    You  can't  ever  tell. 

DREW.  I'm  sure  that  what  we  have  just 
heard  has  given  us  all  a  great  deal  of  pleasure. 


Act  111}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  109 

I  won't  dwell  on  the  satisfaction  to  yourself, 
Nan,  for  fear  of  giving  you  pain.  But  I  am 
sure  that  your  good  aunt,  who  has  been  so  kind 
to  you — 

MRS.  P.  No  more  than  my  sacred  dooty, 
Mr.  Drew. 

DREW.  [Gallantly, ]  I  will  spare  your 
blushes,  Mrs.  Pargetter.  And  all  your  young 
friends  who  are  here  to-night.  I'm  sure  that 
they  all  feel  with  me — 

[Re-enter  DIXON.] 

DIXON.  Excuse  me,  Drew.  Do  show  me  the 
way  to  where  the  coach  passes.  These  beastly 
lanes  are — 

DREW.  Yes.  Yes.  Certainly.  Certainly. 
[To  the  Company.]  I  must  wish  you  all  good 
night.  So  sorry  to  have  interrupted  your  eve- 
ning's amusement. 

MRS.  P.    A  pleasure  I'm  sure,  sir. 

DREW.     [To  NAN.]    By  the  way r  Nan.    Per- 


110  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

haps  I  should  say  Miss  Hardwick,  now  you're 
an  heiress.  Mrs.  Drew  would  like  to  see  you  at 
the  Rectory  to-morrow — She  thinks  you  might 
like  to  live  with  us  as  our  housekeeper. 

DIXON.    Come  on.    Come  on. 

DREW.  Coming,  Captain  Dixon.  But  we'll 
go  into  that  to-morrow.  Shall  we? 

NAN.  Thank  you,  sir.  I  hope  you'll  thank 
Mrs.  Drew,  too,  sir.  But  I  shall  not  come  to 
the  Rectory  to-morrow.  Unless — unless  the 
fishers  bring  their  take  to  you.  For  you  to 
choose  your  tithe. 

DREW.  [Puzzled.]  Well.  Ah.  Ah  yes. 
Well,  think  it  over.  Sleep  on  it. 

NAN.    I  shall  sleep  soundly  on  it. 

DREW.  Good  night,  everybody.  Now,  Cap- 
tain Dixon. 

[Exit] 
[Returning.]    Mrs.  Pargetter! 


Act  III}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  111 

MRS.  P.  Yes,  sir.  [He  draws  her  aside  and 
whispers,  pointing  to  NAN.] 

DREW.     [In  stage  whisper.]    To  bed  at  once. 
[NAN  smiles  bitterly.] 

MRS.  P.    Yes,  sir.    Pore  thing,  it's  been  too 
much  for  'er.    I  don't  wonder. 
[Exit  DREW.] 

MRS.  P.    'E's  gone  at  last.    [To  the  others.] 
Go  on  in  back  to  supper.    Us'll  be  with  yer  in  a 
minute.  Shut  the  door.  There's  sech  a  draught. 
[They  go.] 

DICK.    I'll  fetch  in  Miss  Nan  a  bit  of  supper. 

MRS.  P.  It's  a  pity  you  don't  'eed  the  mote 
in  yer  own  eye  without  'eedin'  the  camel  in 
yer  neighbour's.  Go  in  and  see  to  Jenny. 

PAR.  Well,  Nan,  it  be  a  long  lane  as  'as  no 
turning,  as  they  say.  I  knew  thy  pore  dad 
when  us  was  boys.  When  us  goe'd  a  nesting 
after  ardiestraws.  Dear,  dear.  'E  won  the 
prize  for  kiddy  potatoes,  and  for  kiddy  beans. 


112  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

I  be  glad,  that  I  be,  to  'ear — wot  we've  'card 
to-night. 

NAN.    So  you  are  glad,  are  you?    Glad. 

MRS.  P.  If  you  'adn't  a  black  'eart,  you'd 
be  glad  yourself,  I  should  a-thought.  Some 
people  a-got  no  feelin's. 

PAR.    Fifty  pound  be  a  lot  of  money,  too. 

NAN.  The  worth  of  a  man's  life  'ad  need  to 
be  a  lot  of  money. 

PAR.  There's  two  things  you  could  do  with 
all  that  money.  You  could  put  'er  into  the 
Bank  and  that.  Or  you  could — I'd  be  very  glad 
to  borrow  it  of  you,  to  'elp  me  on  the  farm. 
And  pay  you  the  interest,  like. 

NAN.    And  if  I'd  refuse.    What  then? 

MRS.  P.  Refuse?  Refuse?  I  don't  doubt 
you  give  yerself  airs.  It's  wot  we'd  expect  of 
yer — 

PAR.  [Interrupting.']  I'm  only  asking. — 
To  keep  it  in  the  family. 


Act  lin  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  113 

MRS.  P.  [To  PAR.]  Asking?  Givin'  in  to 
'er  wills  and  'er  won'ts.  Wot's  asking  got  to  do 
with  it?  'Ere.  You're  under  age.  We're  yer 
guardians.  We'll  take  care  of  that  money  for 
yer. 

NAN.  Yes.  You'll  want  some  money,  for 
Jenny's  portion. 

PAR.  [Controlling  his  temper.]  I  'aven't 
said  nothink  yet — 

MRS.  P.  No.  You  'aven't  got  the  sperrit 
of  a  'og  with  the  twitters. 

PAR.  [Angrily.}  I  don't  want  none  of  yer 
jaw. 

MRS.  P.  Don't  you  nag  at  me,  for  I  won't 
'ave  it.  See? 

NAN.  The  money  is  mine.  Not  yours.  I 
have  a  use  for  it. 

PAR.  [To  NAN.]  Then  I've  done  with  yer. 
You  talk  rude  to  the  quality.  You  give  all  sorts 
of  talk  to — Talk  as  'd  sick  a  savage.  Do  wot 


114  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  111 

y'  like  with  yer  money.  But  you'll  make  good 
my  Toby  jug,  at  least.  Now  then. 

NAN.    Your  Toby  jug? 

PAR.    You  know  wot  I  mean. 

NAN.  Aha.  The  little  friend.  My  little 
friend.  [A  cry  within.]  That's  'er  soul's  voice 
that  cry  is.  So  that  is  wot — 

MRS.  P.  And  you  'ad  the  cold  blooded  cheek 
to  'ave  your  go  at  the  parsty,  wot's  more. 

PAR.  And — there — I'll  leave  you  to  your 
conscience.  [Going.] 

MRS.  P.  Stop  a  moment,  Will.  Us'll  settle 
'er  with  'er,  onst  for  all. 

NAN.  [Going  to  the  money  bag  and  cutting 
its  tape.]  Yes.  We'll  settle.  Look  at  it.  Look 
at  it.  [She  pours  the  gold  into  a  heap.]  Gold. 
Gold.  Little  yellow  rounds  of  metal.  Fifty 
little  yellow  rounds  of  metal.  This.  This  is  for 
a  man's  life.  Oh,  you  little  yellow  rounds  that 
buy  things.  Look  at  'em.  Hear  'em.  [Pause.] 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  115 

Don't  you  speak  to  me.  [Intensely.}  There 
was  a  strong  man,  a  kind  man.  He  was  forty- 
nine  years  old.  He  was  the  best  thatcher  in  the 
three  counties.  He  was  the  sweetest  singer. 
I've  known  teams  goin'  to  the  field  stop  to  'ear 
my  dad  sing.  And  the  red  coats  come.  And  a 
liar  swore.  And  that  strong  man  was  killed. 
Sudden.  That  voice  of  his'n  was  choked  out 
with  a  cord.  And  there  was  liars,  and  thieves, 
and  drunken  women,  and  dirty  gentlemen. 
They  all  stood  in  the  cold  to  see  that  man 
choked.  They  stop  up  all  night,  playing  cards, 
so  as  they  should  'ear  'is  singin'  stopped.  For 
it  goes  round  the  voice  the  cord  do.  And  they 
draw  a  nightcap  down  so  as  'e  shan't  see  'is  girl 
a-crying.  [Pause.]  And  for  that,  I  get  little 
yellow  round  things.  [Pause.]  And  there  was 
a  girl,  a  young  girl,  a  girl  with  a  sick  'eart. 
D'you  know  what  came  to  'er?  You  know 
what  came  to  'er.  She  came  among  them  as 


116  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

might  have  made  much  of  'er.  For  she'd  'ave 
give  a  lot  for  a  kind  word.  'Er  'eart  was  that 
broke  'er'd  'ave  broke  out  a-crying  at  a  kind 
word. 

MRS.  P.  When  you've  done  with  your  fal- 
lals, I'll  'ave  my  say. 

NAN.  Don't  you  speak.  Don't  you  threat- 
en. You'll  listen  to  me.  You  'ad  me  in  your 
power.  And  wot  was  good  in  me  you  sneered 
at.  And  wot  was  sweet  in  me  you  soured. 
And  wot  was  bright  in  me  you  dulled.  I  was  a 
fly  in  the  spider's  web.  And  the  web  came 
round  me  and  round  me,  till  it  was  a  shroud,  till 
there  was  no  more  joy  in  the  world.  Till  my 
'eart  was  bitter  as  that  ink,  and  all  choked. 
And  for  that  I  get  little  yellow  round  things. 
[Pause  and  change  of  voice.]  And  all  of  it — 
No  need  for  any  of  it.  My  dad's  life,  and  your 
taunts,  and  my  broke  'eart.  All  a  mistake.  A 
mistake.  Somethin'  to  be  put  right  by  fifty 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  117 

pound  while  a  gentleman  waits  for  a  coach.  'E 
thought  nothing  of  it.  'E  thought  only  of  get- 
ting the  coach.  'E  didn't  even  pretend.  [A 
cry  within.]  It  were  a  game  to  'im.  'E  laughed 
at  it.  [A  cry  within.]  Yes.  She  has  seen  her- 
self. No  wonder  she  cries.  She  sees  the  parish 
dead-cart  coming. 

[DiCK  puts  his  head  in  at  the  door.] 

DICK.    Mother.    Come  to  Jenny.    Quick. 

MRS.  P.  To  'ell  with  Jenny.  I've  somethin' 
to  attend  to  'ere. 

DICK.  She's  in  a  fit  or  somethink.  Us  can 
'ardly  'old  'er  down. 

MRS.  P.  [To  NAN.]  More  of  yer  work.  You 
wait  till  I  come  back. 

A  GIRL.  [At  the  door.]  Quick,  Mrs.  Par- 
getter. 

[MRS.  PARGETTER  snatches  the  brandy  bottle 
and  goes  out.] 

PAR.  I  don't  know  'ow  all  this'll  end,  Nan. 
[He  goes  out.] 


118  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

[Re-enter  DICK.] 

DICK.  I  brought  you  a  little  bit  o'  supper, 
Miss  Nan. 

NAN.    What  then? 

DICK.  I  thought — Won't  you  sit  down  and 
'ave  it,  Miss  Nan?  There.  Let  me  put  this 
chair  comferable. 

NAN.    Why  do  you  bring  this  to  me? 

DICK.  I  thought  —  some'ow  —  I  thought 
you'd  like  a  bit  of  cossitin'. 

NAN.    I  want  nothin'.    NothhV. 

DICK.  Miss  Nan.  I  want  just  to  say.  Some- 
'ow, it  be  'ard  to  explain.  But  I  ask — I  ask 
your  forgiveness.  'Umbly  I  ask  it.  Oh,  Miss 
Nan.  My  beau-ti-vul.  My  beautivul  as  I 
wronged. 

NAN.    As  you  wronged.    Yes? 

DICK.  I  was — I  dunno — I  was  led  away, 
Miss  Nan. 


Act  III}  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  119 

NAN.  Yes,  Dick.  You  were  led  away.  How 
were  you  led  away?  Why? 

DICK.  I  was  that.  When  I  'card  as  your 
dad  was.  I  mean  when  I  'card  of  your  dad.  I 
doan'  know.  It  seemed — I  felt  some'ow.  I 
be  that  dry  I  can't  'ardly  speak.  Miss  Nan — 

NAN.    You  felt  some'ow?    Yes? 

DICK.  As  your  'air  was,  was  a  cord  round 
my  throat.  Choking.  I  was  sick.  I  couldn't — 
no — I  couldn't. 

NAN.    And  was  that  the  only  reason  why? 

DICK.    Yes,  Miss  Nan. 

NAN.  And  why  did  you  choose  Jenny?  My 
kiss  was  still  warm  upon  your  lips.  [Going  to 
him.]  Your  blood  was  singing  in  your  veins 
with  me,  when  you  turned — Why  did  you  turn 
to'er? 

[A  pause.] 
She  was  not  a — a  gallus-bird.    Eh? 

[A  pause.    DICK  licks  his  lips  and  swallows.] 


120  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

[Re-enter  GAFFER  slowly,  with  a  few  roses 
plucked  in  the  garden.    He  goes  to  NAN.] 

GAFFER.    The  moon  be  at  full,  0  wonder. 
The  cows  in  the  meadows  kneel  down. 

The  rabbits  be  kneelin'.    The  vlowers  in  the 
edge  do  kneel — 

Roses  for  your  'air,  my  beauty.    0  my  bright 
'ansome  of  the  world. 

[He  gives  the  roses  reverently.] 

Roses  in  your  'air.    And  the  bride's  'air  loose. 

[NAN  places  a  rose  in  her  hair  and  loosens  it 
about  her.] 

NAN.     [Taking  some  money.]     For  a  'ead- 
stone,  Gaffer.     [Sharply.]    Well,  Dick. 

DICK.    I  was. — 0,  I  can't.    To  show  that  I 
'ad  done  with  yer.    I  was  angry. 

NAN.    Because  I  didn't  tell  you  of  my  dad? 

DICK.    Yes. 

NAN.    There  be  three  times,  Dick,  when  no 
woman  can  speak.    Beautiful  times.    When  'er 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  121 

'ears  'er  lover,  and  when  'er  gives  'erself,  and 
when  'er  little  one  is  born.  You — You'd  have 
been  the  first  to  stop  me  if  I'd  spoken  then. 

DICK.  I  thought  as  you'd — not  been  straight 
— I  thought — 

NAN.  And  now  you  turn  again  from  Jenny. 
Why  have  you  left  Jenny,  Dick? 

GAFFER.     [Jangling  and  counting  money.] 

"Nine.    'Ow  the  bells  do  chime, 

Ten.    There's  a  path  for  men." 

DICK.  Because  I  don't  care  for  'er.  Because 
now — 

GAFFER.     'Leven.    From  the  earth  to  'eaven. 

DICK.     Be  quiet,  Gaffer. 

NAN.    Because? 

DICK.  0,  Miss  Nan.  It  be  you  as  I  love. 
My  dad  'ave  stop  me  afore.  But  now  your 
name  be  cleared— - 

NAN.    Is  that  the  only  reason? 

GAFFER.     [Talking  through.] 


122  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

Twelve.  Twelve.  Us  rang  out  a  peal 
at  twelve.  Angels.  Gold  angels.  The 
devil  walks  the  dark  at  twelve.  Ghosts. 
Ghosts.  Behind  the  white  'edstones. 
Smite  'em,  gold  rider.  Smite  'em  with  thy 
bright  sharp  spear. 

NAN.  Is  that  the  only  reason?  You  love 
me,  then? 

DICK.  Yes.  That's  the  only  reason.  I  love 
you,  Nan. 

NAN.     And  what  will  my  aunt  say? 
DICK.     Damn  'er.     It's  'er  that  came  be- 
tween us. 

NAN.     I  know  what  you  can  say  to  'er. 
DICK.    What? 

NAN.  Go  to  her  now.  Take  her  that  bag  of 
money.  Tell  her  she  may  have  that.  But  that 
you  will  marry  me,  not  Jenny. 

[DiCK,  rather  staggered,  takes  up  the  bag 
and  walks  slowly  to  door.] 


Act  ///]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  123 

DICK.  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  Miss  Nan,  if 
us — if  us  just  told  'er,  without — without  bein' — 

NAN.     I  knew  it.     I  knew  it. 

[A  horn  is  heard  jointly  off.] 

GAFFER.  There  be  a  music  on  the  sea,  a  soft 
music.  The  ships  be  troubled  at  the  music. 

NAN.  Come  here,  Dick.  They  said  my  dad 
kill  a  sheep.  A  foundered  old  ewe  as'd  feel 
nothin' ;  'ardly  the  knife  on  'er  throat.  And  my 
dad  was  'ung;  only  acos  they  said  'e  kill  a  beast 
like  that.  They  choked  'im  dead,  in  front  of 
'alf  a  city.  But  you  come.  And  you  'ave  yer 
love  of  a  girl.  You  says  lovely  things  to  'er. 
Things  as'd  move  any  girl — and  only  because 
you  be  greedy.  Greedy  of  a  mouth  agen  your 
mouth ;  of  a  girl's  lips  babblin'  love  at  you.  And 
a  sour  old  woman's  word'll  make  you  'it  that 
girl  across  the  lips  you  kissed.  In  ten  minutes. 
You'll  take  'er  lovin'  'eart  and  'er  girl's  pride, 
and  all  'er  joy  in  the  world,  and  stamp  it  in  the 


124  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

dust.  And  you'll  dance  on  'er  white  body ;  and 
all  you'll  feel  is  the  blood  makin'  a  mess  on  your 
boots. 

[The  horn  blows  nearer.'] 

GAFFER.  The  horn.  The  horn.  0  night  owl 
laughing  in  the  wood. 

NAN.  And  you  go  to  another  girl.  And  you 
give  'er  a  joy  in  the  world.  And  then  you  see 
your  old  love  not  wot  the  old  woman  said.  No. 
But  as  sweet  to  the  taste,  as  dear  to  your  greedy 
mouth.  And  with  gold — yellow  round  things 
— to  buy  vanity.  'Ouses,  'orses,  position.  Then 
you  come  back  whining.  Whining!  For  'er  to 
take  you  back.  So  as  you  mid  'ave  that  gold. 

DICK.  0,  you  can  talk.  You've  a  right. 
But  I  love  you,  Nan.  I  do  love  yer. 

NAN.  I  see  very  plain  to-night,  Dick.  I  see 
right,  right  into  you.  Right  down.  You  talk  o' 
thieves.  You  talk  o'  them  as  kills — them  as 
leads  women  wrong.  Sinners  you  calls  them. 


Act  111]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  125 

But  it  be  you  is  the  sinner.  You  kill  people's 
'earts.  You  stamp  them  in  the  dust,  like  worms 
as  you  tread  on  in  the  fields.  And  under  it  all 
will  be  the  women  crying,  the  broken  women, 
the  women  cast  aside.  Tramped  on.  Spat  on. 
As  you  spat  on  me.  No,  no,  oh  no.  Oh  young 
man  in  your  beauty — Young  man  in  your 
strong  hunger.  I  will  spare  those  women. 

DICK.  [Scared,  and  speaking  loudly,  so  as 
to  attract  them  in  the  inner  room.]  I  never! 
Mother!  Mother! 

GAFFER.     0  Love  you  be  a  King.    A  King. 

NAN.  I  will  spare  those  women.  Come  here 
to  me. 

DICK.  Ah!  Ah!  Mother!  [He  backs 
towards  the  door.] 

GAFFER.  On  the  road.  They  come.  Gold 
hoofs.  Gold  hoofs. 

NAN.  Spare  them.  Spare  them.  Spare 
them  the  hell.  The  hell  of  the  heart-broken. 


126  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  [Act  III 

Die — you — die.    [She  stabs  him  with  the  pastry 
knife.    He  falls.] 

DICK.  [Raising  himself  stupidly.]  The 
drums  be  a-roaring.  A-roaring.  [He  dies.] 

GAFFER.  [Clapping  his  hands.]  Oh  Beauty, 
beauty.  Oh  beauty  of  my  white  vlower. 

[A  murmuring  and  rushing  noise  is  heard  as 
the  tide  sweeps  up  from  the  sea.] 

GAFFER.  [Shouts.]  It  be  coming.  Out  of 
the  wells  of  the  sea.  The  eagles  of  the  sea  hear 
it.  They  sharp  their  beaks. 

[Enter  hurriedly  the  others.] 

MRS.  P.  [Running  to  DICK.]  Dick.  Dick. 
Oh!  [Screams.]  Look  at  it  all  smoking. 

PAR.     'Ere.    The  brandy.    Quick.    'E's  gone. 

NAN.     [As  the  noise  increases.]    The  tide. 

GAFFER.     The  tide. 

NAN.  [Laughing.]  The  tide  coming  up  the 
river. 


Act  III]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN  127 

MRS.  P.  Take  the  money,  Will.  Don't  'eed 
the  brandy. 

A  GIRL.    The  pleece,  Artie.    Get  the  pleece. 

NAN.     [Going  to  the  door  as  the  noise  in- 
creases.]   A  strange  fish  in  the  nets  to-morrow. 
[She  goes.] 

GAFFER.  Singing.  Singing.  Roaring  it 
come.  Roaring  it  come.  Over  the  breast.  Over 
the  lips.  Over  the  eyes. 

[The  horn  blows.] 

MRS.  P.  [Putting  the  money  hastily  in  the 
locker.]  That's  something.  Wot  are  we  to  tell 
them? 

[The  coach-horn  blows  loudly  and  clearly.] 

GAFFER.     The  horn !    The  horn ! 
CURTAIN 


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